I start another year tomorrow of solid routine
but all I want to do is find a warehouse to play music in
to drink in and **** in
find a place where my name does not reek of my labels
find a place where the walls can never remember me.

MAMA's gentle hand rested in mine.  Before putting me on the giant yellow school bus and somehow awareness made it known in mama's hands I could trust.  These very same hands wiped away my tears, hugged away my fears and chased with a touch the fever from my brow.  Death has taken her finally and memories sweet are left behind oh how I wish to feel that loving caress now. Mama's hands put on my stylish cap and shinny shoes. After lessons were done prepared each meal into a bountiful feast, to take the mind off youthful blues. Hands that iron the shirt and pants for you never asking much for herself yet constantly giving with a smile to everybody else.  In hard times trying to make her children's even simplest wish come true. Now in my mind I see my very own mama with eyes closed in prayer thanking GOD for taking her through the day with care.  With folded hands mama's hands.