Lost in the Wake

Black gradually dominates my view,
Smeared across the space above,
And I fall, will and the rest of me,
Arrested, caught in a dream,
With so many happenings repeated,
I could remember this in my sleep,
But as I awake, I cannot recall
The gravity ruling relative to each weight,
So everything floats with a ghostly, clouded reason,
Robbing the natural colors from all I say,
Replacing them with odd florescents,
I will just return to sleep on it,
Perhaps the next time I rise I will retain the laws,
These stories are meant to be shared, right?

A Little Unfolding of the Hands

"Take my hand" is a kind gesture,
but repeated enough the muscles atrophy,
disabled by the dulled motion,
like a mother shielding her children
from the slightest of ills,
only to watch them sink fast once she lets go.

This behavior only reinforces itself,
perpetuated by habit, punctuated by fear of exposure,
punctured by natural courses, perpetually denied in my eyes,
blind help I offer freely, knee-jerk hand-outstretched,
I want, no I need, to fill your eyes with hope and your mouth with joy.