my lips,

cuticles,

the insides
of my cheeks,

the callous
on my left
middle finger

where pencils
and pens made
their mark
on me.

the self-harm
is a hobby
of mine.

on particularly
bad lapses
of time
[like now]

these
fingers
dress in
band-aids,

my lips
layered potholes
from frantic
nibbled tears;

at night
i lie awake

afraid
to know the
aftermath of

what drink
after drink
has done

Similarly
to these organs.