deep within the prowling dark, in the stillness, these hands forage the steel scaffolds of pain.
in the stillness -- the rain and the floor, the toppled silence, sleeping in the flurry of these contestations are no petty solicitations.
i want for only a hand to pacify unquiet eyes dizzy with questions.
i want a kiss to take in its flight, your splinters - woodworks of a name's recrimination. i want feet to stride past the torrents of such distinct cry, outward, as though an outburst - the stars wrestle the wind as the shadows are loose in their own leash. i want only an ample body quivering skyward, giving in to sliver in a multitude of glass, like the tiny fingers of rain crashing into the earth blind with force, roadless, tender with the night's tenure, amongst livid walls, and then only ripples, to pulse with the many gilt days of dozing suns until these eyes awaken to the brew of an unfilled sky.