this is how i feel

these fingers are the same ones I've always had, the same left thumb scar of two stitches
the same fingers that appear longer in photographs than they ever seem to me
I snap them, I pop and crush them
they have never left me, but they aren't the same
they rub and smack my forehead now
they tie shoes that are not my own
they are creased and veiny and the medications make them shake
they pick at the invisible and reach for the out of sight
they forget the previously automatic
writing serendipidty and annilation
backgamon and ferotious
incorrect
lost
they are mine but the drugs now pull their strings
dopamine
serotonin
and all the other give-meaning-to-life drugs on my plate
digging under my back into my mattress
waking to find they are lacking blood
I shake it back down to the tips
and they are still long and slender, but the drugs control them now
and perhaps one day they will forget me altogether
perhaps