Place, penetrate, use force if I am a wall.

Feet fight in fast pushes back and forth, we are a mirror and the opposite of each other. I cheat every time, get my hands involved, win only because I know you are much stronger. I want to win so bad, so desperately, because I believe you will. It's not that I want to be better, I'm just more desperate to see you lose than you to see you win.

Wooden floors, a corner I pushed into often enough for it to make me freeze only a second, a familiar face in the crowd, far, but we recognize with a smile or a nod, that smallest toe holds together what is left of safety that you are that controlled or uncontrolled creature you present to the outside. Laughter lashes with shame down my back, I am just very clumsy. 

Laughter is also a place where I often find myself questioning. Why are you laughing, I don't understand when the joke places me in the middle, tell me why before I let this place go. My hands cannot stay curled around through this whipping.

No place can penetrate, I decided. All attachment formed is through sense of imagination. If I can imagine the outline, thin as hair, and it can twist my tongue in search, make me gag a bit, I know it has settled, and only then can I claim it fist closed tightly around, sticking to my sweat when I open wincing in weakness. 

Never in a new place do I find myself curious before all its novelty. I migrate to the places of familiarity, back at same corners, legs crossing the same when I sit on new chairs. No trust is placed where my feet touch and stand. Walking is a whole discipline of fear. Constantly, do I think I will fall, and unsettlingly, when the thought is pushed back, airing out, that is when all my bones will bear the consequences. Proof of safety does not exist, my bravery gets crushed under all the waters washing it clean and revealing. I will persist and stand, but can I trust in these unmoving grounds that make me fall over over and over? 

Everything I call my own is part of a borrowed line. All these borrowed lines don't have an expiration date, yet I ask around once in a while, do you need it back?