Hands

My exhaustion knows no bounds, for it leaps faster than the time in which I sleep. Dwelling on the retiring emotions, i am feeding the beliefs live things. In an agony of phrases I forgot to supply you the one thing you could not fail to understand-my wide eyes.
If i were wise, i would open my eyes. I would trust the sun to follow their black brown gaze. I would trust a world to appear. Clear. 
Clearly i have no faith. i am basking in the moments of make believe, and in the moments where someone expains to me why things just -is-
i stop signaling my defeat and i rise up to say this is my stance. Do not belittle me. You had your chance. I leave this holiday of fornicating lack of romance. 
This is my redemption, staying with the slaves of my mind to set free their slay sayings.
I can not keep pretending affection. I am caught in the claws of ambivilence. I am netted into knowing there is something else out there. Something so shiny bright I could not fail to see, if I but opened my eyes and accepted change. 
The leaves go on without me, without my permission, without my expectations. They are doing it to spite me, while I am clinging to the idea of what I thoght I was before. Before time came and caressed my cheek into linings, before experience flirted and fondled and fought me into this corner I bang my head on. 
There is no blood in the risen sun today. I have both hands in a prayer fold but not saying i am sorry for sins i slaved to begin. 
This picture of me, held in my hands. This is my frown and my smile and I claim my experiences. I was kissing my reflection instead of looking away into the clouds of deeper sleep. 
The clouds steeped in my cups, china slipped to the sea at my feet. I stared for the mermaids. I wrapped my wishes in sea weed. I have a shell I see I save my reflections for. I listen to the lies of an ocean inside where there is no one and nothing and no rushing water to cleanse me. I abandon my own shell, a fragile crab, curled at the edge of pollution. I say something wise then, but do not pry and ask me what. The wisdom relies on me holding my peace. 
I do not want to say something I may learn to regret. I stopped trusting my voice and started trusting my feel. Silence. 
i was on my knees before you and you still said no. No wonder my pride has abandoned me. i have no intensity left in my hands. my hands are lacking their vitality. i let myself go, but do not ask me where. I have no idea where I am clinging to, or for. all i know is i am feeling quite all alone.