is of no use to me.
your helping hand is a temporary. what i am feeling resides in my body, another territory. what i am thinking is building another bubble universe — too big and too constricting. visitors are politely cued to leave.
your helping hand is exhausted – it’s not lazy, just wary.
in another tower of hands it’s just a hand clasped to a hand asking for a hand thinking it’s a big deal one’s saying no – y’all know so many of us say no – and y’all know we’re still all doomed to reach the big black sky up there
together and without