I counted the hours
and forgot about the days.
I sat and stared
at my cracked palms,
too dried out to bleed,
too calloused to feel.
Time, it seems, has worn us
down to statues
frozen in the heart
of this burning desert,
counting hours,
waiting for the rain
that never comes.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
I counted the hours
and forgot about the days.
I sat and stared
at my cracked palms,
too dried out to bleed,
too calloused to feel.
Time, it seems, has worn us
down to statues
frozen in the heart
of this burning desert,
counting hours,
waiting for the rain
that never comes.
