Buttons

I have a button, actually, I have lots of buttons.

Thank goodness I do, otherwise I would not survive.

I like to click constantly. Inside my head.

The clicking means I am ready, ready for anything.

Click, click, click.

My life is full of buttons.

Like in the cockpit of aeroplane.

Sometimes I know I need a co-pilot.

To help me navigate, to follow the flight path.

Other times I end up flying solo. Heading straight the mountains.

Each of the buttons has a label.

Saying exactly what it does.

With a description,

But the labels keep falling off.

So I don’t know which is which.

There’s a huge red button.

My hand hovers constantly over it.

My fingers stretched wide, until the skin pulls.

My palm tight with the tension.

I am always ready, but haven’t ever hit it…yet.

There’s a button that switches on and off.

I press it and feel the rush of electricity.

That Adrenalin rush.

I am constantly switching it on and off.

Switching it makies me feel alive.

Then there’s a broken, jagged edge button.

To switch it on causes pain.

Sometimes it draws blood.

Sometimes I have to press it to feel something.

To feel anything, instead of the emptiness.

There’s a button with a message written on it,

“I am here, I exist” it says.

You have to break the glass to press it.

Sometimes the glass crumbles away easily

Other times its covered in reinforced glass.

Then there’s the coded combination buttons.

The need to be in sequence.

They need to be in order.

When they are, it’s fine.

When they’re not, I simply find a different button.

There is a button entitled “PLAY”

Anything or anyone can press it.

A sight, a sound, a smell can trigger it.

Deep in my subconscious, a film plays.

Sending abject terror down each and every nerve in my body.

Another button.

I don’t know what type it is.

I wish I did.

When it is pressed,

Everything stops, stops DEAD.

My favourite button is simply called “ME”

When I can find it, I love this button.

I like to switch it on and be “ME”

I am getting better at pressing this button,

But there’s always something that switches it off.

I want to be ready to fly solo.

To be in charge of all my buttons.

To navigate my own journey.

To need less of my co-pilot

To kick back and press the “Auto Pilot” button.

All people have buttons. My lad has buttons that can cause major problems, but also help him to survive.

 

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