Hand Made Gestures

An open palm hand cramp

[handmadegestures]

Continuity

Talk to me your feelings, because you feel them alone and I love you. Fly me out and lay me down Coming in a minute, I’d come in a minute. What wasted abuse on tender hips trying to reach upward for warm love coming down. Wasted and abused from tender moments now trying my consciousness. In a battle, bruised from repeated relapses by those hands folding with sorrow, looking down I only hold my own. The lover wants to cry wholeheartedly. The creep wants me to open up again. Now is only a grey stare. Now is only a slow sigh.

[handmadegestures]

Double Vision

Who’s a gimmick to oneself? Who knows how to move n drive pleasure to sell oneself wrong, instead of short, To shortly dismiss a given flow for a remembered known, To think a body given is a body doubled, Pleasure principled on once loved formulas A sipped on cocktail diluted in delusion, ends up sipping a cock, with a tale A hard felt solution

[handmadegestures]

Sounds To Me

As the soft light shines over your fingertips, Knowing swarms as a fever'd state. As the pillow condones your drunken nature, Knowing a mourning will rise. As the thoughts of .it should be. let lie beside, Knowing the covers bare ignorance. As the knowing becomes the want of harsh should's past.   So we're slow clicking sounds to be

[handmadegestures]

i liked the mom nextdoor

Her dress put form to the blowing wind, as if pleading her to come with it. She used to laugh with her whole body and her mouth would face the sky sending her joy to the passing clouds. I would watch her gardening from under the bushes in my backyard, shadowed from view and shadowed from the sun. I would watch her dig with mud all in her hair from tirelessly trying to push back the hitchhiking strands. I watched as she slowly started to glow, to glisten, and then to sweat. The beads would slip down from her collarbone leading my gaze in the right direction. Lying on my belly on the cool dirt I became covered in mud, as she was, I would sweat with her, beads of anticipation and intrigue. Those sweaty captivated moments were the only time I ever prayed.

[handmadegestures]

Lay Me Down

Fly me out and lay me down Coming in a minute, I’d come in a minute What wasted abuse on tender hips trying to reach upward for warm love coming down Wasted and abused from tender moments now trying my consciousness In a battle and bruised from repeated relapses toward those hands folding with sorrow, looking down I only hold my own The lover wants to cry wholeheartedly The creep wants me to open my warmth Now is only a grey stare Now is only a slow sigh It’s a numb feeling I'll fall in love with.

[handmadegestures]

By Flaw of Physics

In this train I watch the ground drift quietly past my window. I watch the air sink slowly to yellow, then to a heavy orange, like the despair of quitting. The day steeps, bleeding red into the skyline, pleeding into night, giving faded blessings as remembered sins. I stand up and see a lone passenger's head bobbing, sleeping, consumed by subconscious. I watch him, jealous of his rest. My thoughts view him as an anecdote to the malady of awake perceptions. Grass blades run by my window quickly; individual at first, then joining together with speed to turn into a river that carries me backward. It begins to rain. I see it first as singular drops, then, like the grass, they slant downward, together. The only forward motion is the unaware bobbing head in front. This train is only holding backward moving thoughts and a man oblivious of his reality, he cannot be considered moving forward consciously, but by an inescapable law of physics.

[handmadegestures]

Can't Be Your Home

Tide me to the current, let's get a bit higher, lead you to the water shore, but I can't be your home. can't be alone Justified we lie let's sleep inside the shelter of our broken art escapes. But I can't be alone. can't be your home Drag you outta this night, moonlight crept up shoulders, I smile to your promise, but I can't be your home. can't be alone Wide-eyed yet disciplined, stating to you always, come to bed and please forget that I can't be alone. can't be your home

[handmadegestures]

Tilting Forward

This is running time, like your spontaneous footprint tracks over my couch. “Come on you little wasted pipe! Fragile, fragile, fragile.” He lifted his finger softly to point at the rusted iron ornaments surrounding her apartment. “This is what you don yourself with?” “I bought them on Merland and 22nd.” “Louder! Brighter! More erect!” “Your drunkenness can’t find poetry.” “And what? Have you found poetic discharge in an antique shop selling over-priced, visual pleasures? Your ornamental poetry I’ve read six hundred times over! Scoff at my liquor body all you please, but please hide behind your delicately aged vase filled with flowers, otherwise…” His eyes peeled white all over. “Otherwise what?” “Otherwise, your face will be seen.” He smiled, tilting forward. “Your smugness is unattractive.” “Your attractiveness is smug.” He grabbed his cock bulge over his pants. “Leaving on a high note!” Laughing, he left through her door. “You’re an asshole!” He laughed harder, and allowed her door to lay open behind him so she could hear his laughter till she slammed the door shut.

[handmadegestures]

You're Too Deep

You write a lot and don't say anything at all. They're all pretty words about to be recalled. That map you drew us was forged on your typewriter, alongside a cup of black coffee. 'Cause you appreciate that. Stand tall: Read it all out like beverage'd bravery. Furrowed brows and undone epiphany. Say it so we can compliment in our competence without looking for clairvoyance. I heard you believed in you. Start slipping us the truth. Hypocrites of lonely lines, cryptic and entitled rhymes. I started to read your blog. What was that line about Werner Herzog? I heard you started to invent your own language. That was the first time I agreed when you said: "No one will ever understand me."

[handmadegestures]

4691

Caught tired in time, the clock snoozing silently. Lying on a dilapitated mattress, half the room's size. It was four o’clock in September, I could sink into this months quivering sunset like a waited lover falls deep into arms. This was the sun that holds my heart as a threat towards a shallow gasp in my throat. The yellow was nothing but a haze, to memories of limbs tangled. I slipped into the smell of your bare chest

[handmadegestures]

Breakfast

Words out of my mouth make as much sense as a bowl of spilled alphagetti.

[handmadegestures]

Weathered Mind

My mind is getting weird today. Weird-minded day. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's my mind. The weather is getting weird today. Weird, weathered day. Maybe it's my mind. Maybe it's the rain. My mind is getting weathered today. Weathered-minded day. Maybe it's the abuse. Maybe it's my mind. The abuse is getting weathered today. Weathered, abused day. Maybe it's the drinking. Maybe it's the abuse. My body is getting drunk today. Abused-body day. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's my mind.

[handmadegestures]

Dental Floss

You are stuck in my teeth and I can't get you out. Now what?

[handmadegestures]

Dear proposed length, My autobiography is going to be in real time.

[handmadegestures]

More Madly

There's a curve in my weakened spine. I'd love you more madly, I'd save that correction. I'd been more sane, I'd have let it out. There's a sink below your unbearded chin. You'd been more kind, you'd have filled it up. You'd posed naked for empathy, you'd be clothed in my writings. There's a place dry with sun'd moss. We'd been there, suffering from enjoyment. We'd laugh in present embraces. We'd melt souls in good eyed nature. There's empty bottles like shrapnel on my floor. I'd never made you a habit, I'd save this love with unwetted tongue. I'd never been an addict, I'd love you more madly.

[handmadegestures]

How Is Your Curiosity?

[handmadegestures]

“I’ve rid myself of my ego.” He stated, slouched in his seat with his arm resting across the top of the chair next to him. “But seemingly you’ve mastered ironic declarations. Namaste, right? Bow your head a little lower, I can still see the insecurities in your eyes."