Just a Hand

October 17, 2011
I am empty
and it eats me
I hear music

calling for me
strings that creak and ache
so stuck with age
needing resin
like oil
that they may sing again.
I hear them
and they are so beautiful.

pearls form in my eyes
drip down my cheeks
astral packages of emotion
and all that is inexpressible.

the lonely god sighs

slow sigh
so tired
so tired.

he has been empty for so long
like I have been empty.
he hears tender keys
tapping pity
and damp thoughts
and numbness.
a melancholia of the most beautiful stars.

our fingers interlock
mine and the lonely god’s
and our songs blend
in a slightly less lonely confectionary
of the most emotional notes
of violins and piano.

today, the lonely god
is slightly less lonely.

he has a hand to hold
and so do I

but tomorrow
I do not know
if I will be there
to hold the hand of this poor
lonely god
and more pearls drip from my eyes
as the music drips away
like water from icicles in spring.

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