This is NOT a Poem.

This is not a poem. Its a collection of thoughts.
How many times can I check my e-mail in one day?
Nervous habit.
Turn my palms up and look at my forearms, looking for veins
Popping out through muscle strain that won't go away.
I'm bored.
I'm waiting for life to pull back its hand and just slap me
Right in the face, just please leave a mark that won't go away.
Lets do anything other than nothing.
Something.
How many times can I check my e-mail in one day?
Well, I'm nine hours in and twenty two hash marks already
Scored on a lazy notebook, a tally of my boredom;
And dissatisfaction.
I think about skulls, and if I could draw them I would;
Wrap them in flame and picture them crawling up my arm
To twist painfully but so sweetly around my shoulder.
I day dream too much.