Fingers

taking me days and days, taking me weeks and weeks, taking me months and months, taken me probably a year. how the highest highs stoop down to the lowest lows, arresting me in handcuffs the harshest shame I’m in parole. don’t you know don’t you know conditions are hard to control? sucking all the coolness from my skin why are you restricting my blood flow? subconscious not aligned with my frantic movements I’m always petrified spasms are on a League of Their own. been dusting off such tick-like habits, rusting off my prickly fingers, how they all corrode I swear all these man-made bandits want the the hunt so they unfold.