Painfully Painted Strangers

Painfully painted strangers

dance

with hollow laughs 

and guttural grinding of bones

that slake the eternal 

thirst for touch

It hurts

this razor burn

on a fading heart

certain of tears

that fall

on yesterday's hope.

I cannot turn away

from me

and need

that galls my mind

with shame

for a weak soul.

lost;

I am lost

without anchor

or rudder 

to push 

towards solid ground.

All I can do

is hope

that will holds

perhaps one day 

over craving

eyes, hands, soul