There are lines in my hands.
There are lines in my hands and they worry me.
I think of these lines,
and these thoughts tunnel,
just like the tunnels and grooves and caves on the inside of my palm.
These lines have at least trebled in quantity
i started back in April.
I, am a manual worker.
Perhaps these lines represent all the thoughts,
never leaving but forever multiplying.
They will stay, indented
indented and grow stronger, deeper, further,
they will crack with age
they will be dirty, plagued by mud and dirt
they will be disgusting.
They will be cracked, and dirty, plagued by mud and dirt and be disgusting.
My palms look old. Ancient.
Just like an Egyptian cat.
I wonder if they will mummify me.
At least they are not hairy.
Hairy palms are a sure sign of madness.