> my hands are empty
grasping at intangible straws of memories of happier times past burning still on the tips swaying frantically in the storm winds threatening to blow them all away every last straw filling the skies with their sparkle and brightness lighting up the night skies one final time but in the end my hands are empty
a silent whisper and all is lost among millions of whispers that clutter the subconscious land of the living and the waking dead with nary an opportunity to face the flesh of one whom thy heart had been given sent back via electronicdelivery so cold so unfeeling started with a hello and ended with a goodbye receiver pressed firmly against my ear both times i remember the pressure on my skin and the pleasure in my heart but memories for now embraced in dream but so frightening real with every hour every silent minute every unbearable second and with a press of a button all is gone
how wonderful it would be if everything was controlled by buttons? press the red one and the pain will stop press the blue one and the tears will end press the green one and life can go on again but here in the dearth of the blackness that surround my body and soul my hands are empty for the remote control is too deep within me to grab ahold of and my thoughts and emotions are overwhelming me taking over me and yet i control i try i fail
staring at a souless screen searching for a trace of recognition and reconcilliation but there are none but for millions and millions and billions of bits'n'bytes staring back at me laughing at me taunting me with their indifference and silence except for the typing of desperate keys illuminated by the sole light on my table the only light as my lifelight has left me in the dark i grasp at nothing and i feel nothing i feel everything
laughing at the notion that the years have not been kind to me for mayhap i have been unkind to myself for being such a creature of passion and emotion that i burst within imploding heart rusting away to near nothingness a smigen of flame that is only survival lighting my way and i have stopped
how different would it be if i was a cold unfeeling creature with nary a moment of pause to begin life anew with a snap of the fingers but a secret which i will share i cannot snap my fingers never have and probably never will and the only thing my fingers are good for is typing alla this into cyberspace wet from tears and dry with age my fingers are all i have left shaking trembling as i cannot breathe
... my hands are empty still ...
a silent whisper and all is lost among millions of whispers that clutter the subconscious land of the living and the waking dead with nary an opportunity to face the flesh of one whom thy heart had been given sent back via electronicdelivery so cold so unfeeling started with a hello and ended with a goodbye receiver pressed firmly against my ear both times i remember the pressure on my skin and the pleasure in my heart but memories for now embraced in dream but so frightening real with every hour every silent minute every unbearable second and with a press of a button all is gone
how wonderful it would be if everything was controlled by buttons? press the red one and the pain will stop press the blue one and the tears will end press the green one and life can go on again but here in the dearth of the blackness that surround my body and soul my hands are empty for the remote control is too deep within me to grab ahold of and my thoughts and emotions are overwhelming me taking over me and yet i control i try i fail
staring at a souless screen searching for a trace of recognition and reconcilliation but there are none but for millions and millions and billions of bits'n'bytes staring back at me laughing at me taunting me with their indifference and silence except for the typing of desperate keys illuminated by the sole light on my table the only light as my lifelight has left me in the dark i grasp at nothing and i feel nothing i feel everything
laughing at the notion that the years have not been kind to me for mayhap i have been unkind to myself for being such a creature of passion and emotion that i burst within imploding heart rusting away to near nothingness a smigen of flame that is only survival lighting my way and i have stopped
how different would it be if i was a cold unfeeling creature with nary a moment of pause to begin life anew with a snap of the fingers but a secret which i will share i cannot snap my fingers never have and probably never will and the only thing my fingers are good for is typing alla this into cyberspace wet from tears and dry with age my fingers are all i have left shaking trembling as i cannot breathe
... my hands are empty still ...
