Urge

Sensation returned to limbs I made numb,
Supply rushing in to nurture the ligatures.
Anxiety builds like a Lincoln log tower,
Casually waiting for the inevitable crash;
I'll spill the gasoline, and I'll light the match.

Heart racing to gain pace with my mind,
Urging for assistance but quickly denied.
Quiet isn't friendly when panic comes home,
It scratches at my skin until I break;
Casually waiting for the inevitable crash.

Terrified of the freedom of feeling,
Exposed and unprepared to venture;
Into the cold palm of uncertainty,
Where I buried the lost and found box,
When I finally learned it was fireproof.