these hands

these hands have caressed others

and touched myself when nobody else would

touch me

 

these hands gripped into fists

grabbed the hair of a once best friend

dragged his head to my rising knee

and broke cracked his bone

 

these hands rolled

cannabis joint after

cannabis joint after

cannabis joint

lifted alcohol to my lips

night after

night after

night

with the apocalyptic aim

of smashing myself back

into the womb

that grinning void of

smothered comfort sinking

 

these hands clenched in response

to hollow touch

held new born babies

sprouted from the lust of my semen

the love of my heart

such familial doubt

 

these hands wrote fantasy and anger

fiction and so-called fact

fuelled from my own fears of inadequacy

from rising passion and

ego driven desperation

 

these hands wiped away blood and tears

and stayed limp by my side

when I should have acted

but instead did nothing

 

these hands I hold before my face right now

I see cracks and fissures where once

there were none

and wonder

how many years have I left

before I crumble to dust?