beneath empty hands i gently weep the overcast of darkened skies further cloud my vision blurred by fastly gathering tears. solemnly, i waste my mind wondering repenting my sins, nursing broken ideals with the consolation prize i've yet to find for the soul-selling swine i've become. ruptured veins that spill tranquility bringing sweeping spells that dizzy the head and nauseate the body but placate urgings and the repressed longings. disturbance lays beyond the doorstep knocking with a firm fist--a steady hand with nails that breach well-made barriers fingertips brushing against finality's ego. stroking a fire that sparks the return and the triggers the kind cocking of steel a barrel dropped and a finger delayed and left me spilling--wrenching guts i still don't have.