I try to move my fingers. They do. Just not the way I want them to.
I want to write. They tap themselves. Moving, but making my mind stand still. The idea then disappears. Dispersing into unfathomable scrapes, unable to endure the hollow that’s occupying me.
I want to type. They tap themselves. Pressing, but hitting all the wrong keys. Anything I want to pour out freezes. Dissolving into a distant thought, a fragment of what could’ve been written, unable to endure the frustration.
My fingers… they’ve gone stiff, I fear.