Climbing
By Chad
The cold bites at the fingers, but that's Ok, the cold's good for friction. Hands and feet search for the sweet spot: That hole, that pebble, that crack in the face. Hands hang silently behind your back, but you will not fall, you will not give those hands a purpose. Let them hang, embarrased and empty. (a soft smile spreads silently across your face) Close now, twisting the foot for purchase, The silent hands shake expectantly behind and under your frame, but you will not fall, hanging every move like a god. A rush now, maybe wind, maybe blood, but it's pushing, pushing you on... stuck between freefall and failing. (the smile fades, and freefall beckons) the hanging hands' mocking caress cuts deep as you fail (as you fall) again, let the hands burn and try... again.I dunno.... been drinking wine =) Written March 9th, 2002 © on Mar 09 2002 10:04 AM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"The cold bites at the fingers,..."