I\'m kept awake by thoughts.
Overthinking, really, as usual.
I keep poems as a diary.
Half finished on my phone.
I write rhyming exercises,
Nonsensical sentences, strung together.
Threads of flashes of inspiration.
I write to avoid thinking.
Thinking leads to feeling, leads to thoughts and overthinking.
Since I was a child, I pick at skin on my thumbs.
It gets worse with worry, with stress.
Its been a bad year. Everyone has had a bad year.
My thumbs are bad.
It started out a bad year for me.
It got good for a few months.
I spoiled that, as I spoil almost everything.
I cut relationship after relationship
Pared down my life to minimum.
Life feels like its on basic life support.
Floating.
I always feel like I\'m floating.
Except when I feel like I\'m drowning.
I smile and laugh in work, make jokes.
I make jokes I shouldn\'t, and I overthink it.
I lost any filter for words a long time ago.
They spill from my mouth, into dead silence.
They spill from my thumbs, onto a too bright screen.
My thumbs are bad.