Lockpick Fingers

Tousled
My twisted hands gripped at my future
Held it like sand
When you squeeze too hard it escapes.

Trying
Since when was breathing not instinctive?
I dream of lockpick fingers
But wake up only to find
No combination
No key
It's all lost on me.

So sensory
Smells are memories
And while I've got recorded sight
It won't help me
As I silently tie my tongue.

The right thing's not the right thing
When the scene is wrong
And intentions aren't worth mentioning
When the deed is done.

Heaving
Spitting it up to save myself
Because nobility only lasts
One short lifespan.

Dreaming
Not called nightmaring for a reason
But when you're searching for the answers
You will see
There are only consequences.

Living life with the mentality
That since muscles grow tougher with use
That I will be stronger with abuse
And it tears me up
And breaks me down
And the certainty I see
In the words you say to me
Leave no room for doubt
For hoping
For optimistic pleas.
So the stares that stun my smile
Will have me standing for a while
Here with wails and flailing arms
Splintered pieces left behind
These tossed desires
In bottled mire
Sold to bidders
Who understand that the things worth taking
Are always taken.


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Last night I ACTUALLY thought I was dying. It was the worst I have ever felt. Ever. To be quite honest I probably could have died had I been just a little more dumb. I will never make that mistake again. That must be what dying feels like. Sometimes I forget that I'm not actually invincible.


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You stole me from myself and it was never meant to be, was it. You unlocked me with your touch and you ran with me. I do not know how to lock me up again. I am vulnerable. Insecure. Left wide open. I am a picked lock. Precision. Skill. Emotional unraveling. Safes do not imply safety; we are not perfect.

But I am ok.