Locatin intensions...

Hands open to feel... Wantin to touch somethin real... Feelin is a way of life... It's what plays out in the mind... Only to repeat if it is allowed... As fists don't wanna release what's been found... The grip alone is the tension squeezed a frustrations pluck... Nerves that land at the fingers that once claimed luv... Movin the body either way to locate intentions unknown til time wraps around the pulses sent as signals to accept or evade... Motion in progress is neva wrong if interest is chopped up in to percentages to stay or escape... Standin on the direction of balance as if runnin with or away from illusions due to the matter in believin n not wantin to admit the facts... To be felt isn't as easy as saying hey, I too am intact... All set in a laid out palm to enjoy the contact it arouses... As many go to bed at night to listen to the wars of soundless... Thickenin the want thinkin it's need as the craze hits hard n eases off on its own lil fraction to exist... Different sighs pitch opposing decimals as the end result will always n forever sit patiently upon a promisin lip...