Party seven steel toe capped boots .

 
She is so afraid if she lets you in will you remember to shut the gate . Will you rearrange her piece by piece until she can no longer recognises herself . She likes conformity everything in it place neat undisturbed a safe space . She’s seen rage in a cocktail of drink and a human being who’s to much like a flick knife . It’s way too close for comfort and evokes fear drenching into her every nerve endings . Her heart feels on the verge of cardiac arrest at the sound and proximity of party seven steel top capped boots and the smell of alcohol acrid air hanging stagnant like a life sentence. Shes dressed herself in robes of an adrenaline fed junkie of fear and it manifests into cold drops of sweat and waiting it’s warped by the complexities of time as she’s stuck in it. Now she hates the thud of a boot it makes her jump  and the dark makes her shake when her nightmares come to greet her . She’s cornered make no mistake she’s in combat and she likes to sleep on the side of a bed nearest to an open door a peculiarity that’s now the norm and that artificial light bulb is her lifeline of her resurrected life . It’s just her mind interpreting living and dying simultaneously and it permeates being reclusive and over sensitive. As if  that is what constitutes the god given truth of a life .