Old Habits

You’re doing that thing again.

Whittling away at your nails and

drawing crop circles through calloused skin.

I see you searching for a facet of truth,

for answers to a question

I didn’t ask.

.

.

.

You’re doing that thing again.

Playing music and movies

and nonsense for the sake of nonsense

Looking for someone else’s voice to demand you lend them your ear.

Looking for a distraction from the bubbling mess

inside your bones.

.

.

.

You’re doing that thing again.

Relentlessly restless and shaking off silence.

Scrolling through stories and make believe until the witching hour

because you’d rather grow irises beneath your eyes

than hear the whispers from your closet.

.

.

.

You're doing that thing again.

Absorbed in this crusade of chaos

and dizzying up your brain,

you don’t even realize the whispers are within.

The voice you’re so desperately drowning

is your own.