These are the hands

Keep your eye out for my new book on Interior Noise Press. I have not yet set a date because I am lazy and irresponsible.

These are the hands

When you cant get much lower

 You want to build a ship

To sink

Rocks in your pockets One for each sin

That you forgot to cross your fingers for

The tin man

Invented the snow flake

Huffin the silver stuff

On the back of a city bus

I want to hitchhike

In dark desolate areas

And

I feel like a bar fight

I think I knew from a very young age that these would be the hands of either a writer

or a killer

and I still think I should have taken the easy road.