Poems for the few

movement

movement

my arms flail and my efforts fail

i can't stop the wail from escaping my lips

because the disappointment i feel is only increased

by the likeliness that i will not heal from this

only sometimes they do what they have been told

and the shoulders that hold my head stay still

minutes will pass without a thought

and then the muscles contract for my involuntary kill

my limbs then seemingly commit crimes on their own

the shrug, the jerk, the lone and solitary twitch

a match that wont light however many times i strike

an irresistible scratch or bite or cut or itch