Back against a dirty wall hands tied up in yesterdays... Soiled hands, longing to be...forgetful. What have you done and what price have you paid for your smoke filled eyes and your veil.... Refusing to see the strings that bind you to night hide behind your hands... Dirty hands. Might have been, could have known... Keeping you awake, in darkness moonlight plays shadows upon your scars... Wrapped up in broken dreams. And what price have you paid? For your smoke filled eyes and your veil... Empty bottles roll over sullied palms, maybe this drink will help you forget... The cure hides within its diseased box, residing in your Ugly hands.

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©Denise Angela Celeste