Frozen in Mid-Gesture

Try and scrape the scabs off of your tongue
Cough and push the shit out of your lungs
You rip and tear at the skin that you’ve just stung
A futile gesture learned when you were young
Memories are just a well-laid trap
Places that you’ve been but can’t go back
Disrupted sleep and equilibrium from drinking to the point of delirium
Displaced memories you wish that you could sell
Haunted by places you once knew very well
Notebooks and photos will never be arranged
Remainders, reminders of a clock you cannot change
Memories are just a well-laid trap
Places that you’ve been but can’t go back
Time’s a foreign code that you can’t crack
A lost location on a map you lack
Hope is like the spring of a trap
There’s a place you’ve never been but can’t go back