Habits Best Forgotten

I constantly bite my fingers to the quick,
and sometimes it draws blood,
a tart, metallic taste,
and it fills my mouth in a familiar fashion,
not unlike pennies
in my mouth;
a habit I picked up as a child
and a habit that I have
never grown out of.

sometimes, I bite my fingernails too,
gnashing until the nail is jagged,
torn and ugly,
not unlike the thoughts that plague me
when I cannot sleep;
those worries that keep me
from closing my eyes
and drifting off.

if I am especially nervous, I bite my thumb,
crushing the bone between my
molars, listening to my jaw pop and
my knuckle groan under the pressure
almost begging for pain;
— it would at least prove
that I was alive and breathing and
free.