Idle Hands

We are barefooted

The grass stiffens from the cold

Walking over a

Giving glass floor

I bet you know what I’m thinking

You seem to be losing your land

Finally fine with you leaving

You and your idle hands

Starts in your head

Flow is persistent

Disregards where you’ve been

Exasperated

Intimidate

Oh my, the folds in your face

So I sit here watching and waiting

For this dead air to change

My life is growing more stagnant

I'm burning away

My mindset seems antiquated

When will time rearrange?

Pieces that I once held so dearly

(define the line that divides fiction from finite)

Slight of hand

You're missing it

Slight of hand

You're missing it

Define the line that divides Fiction from finite

We drove round town

'Til we found out

The lights were off

The truth is found In hollow ground