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anxious
my nails, burning and red I bite
Looking left and right
Down straight lines of yellow streetlights
Dark empty highway
A quiet Friday
I turn left, driving past old, rusted barns
Still biting my fingers
Cigarette smoke lingers
My skin now bleeding and red
I speed home faster to get to my bed
Adjusting the mirror, I see a fed
Behind me, Lights red and blue
My cuticles I still chew
Pulling over on the bumpy gravel shoulder
I reach into my cup holder
My unorganized wallet, I rummage through
“license and registration”
He doesn’t look patient
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