When I’m trying 

to claw and hoist myself up 

to keep contained and grip

ahold of something steady

I could sink my teeth into

the want that creeps up

 

I could run my hands

through the stalemate

of heavy thoughts so tight 

under my skin’s surface

that if I were to brush against

the slightest grit

I could burst open

 

Thoughts of plans and longing

always there hiding and ready

to claw out