Hands that have worked

Not hands that have jerked off.

Hands that create

Not hands that felate laze.

Hands that impress

from a calloused practice


of life.



Scattered pieces

of a wandering mind,

reclined over simmers

of a fleeting time

Who are you trying to be?

Fragments of our        thumbprint


The essence of your truth is here

Words and worlds

​PhoNic Sil​K

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