slim fingers

my limbs are aching;

my eyes slowly blinking as i

stare at the words your slim,


fingers typed

across the fearful sea

that sperates us.


my heart jumps in my chest and

i want to type

the words i wish to say,

but my hands aren’t made for

conveying what lies my mind 

strugges to cope with.


my eyes strain and i am more aware

of the way each bone in my hands creaks

as i struggle to


the boisterous,




mass of unintelligent cells and 

over-active muscle

that lays between my ears,

that begs me to only tell you

the  t r u t h .


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