Hands in my pockets

“With my hands in my pockets”

With all the craziness, confusion, and conflict
I just want my head to stop spinning
For twenty, ten, or even just two minutes.
The cattiness below me mixed with the confusion beside me,
I’m desperately seeking clarity!
I’m desperately seeking the contrivance to clear the fog.
Which way is left and how do I get right?
I hear voices…I know I’m not alone,
But in this fog, there’s no cerebral stimulus
No friend to comprehend
All cloaked in the fog, to busy with ourselves.

So, lonely and chaotically I walk
Lost and confused.
I’m most confused though at the hands
All the hands that reach for me, but
Why are my hands still in my pockets?
I’m really not sure.
I think I’m strong and courageous, I guess.
I need no assistance, but
I’m pretty much scared shitless.
Yet here I persist
With my hands in my pockets.