Mind on it's feet

My window is alway cold
even when its closed, I put my
finger on it feels like a warm ice
cube, it has a lot of finger prints
on it, the reflection makes my room
hover outside of my house, covered
in finger prints. Maybe I love
her, she's my friend and I know I do
but in love? Thats a different
question. People make questions
and try to answer them but feelings can't
be answered ever. We feel things that
don't make sense and our words
do makes sense. I've never liked
the word tense, like past tense
and present, its based on experience,
its stuff that happened and
will happen or happening. Its mind
blowing. We have a system to describe
things that happened and will
or won't happen.

My feet bouncing are a flickering
candle flame, just dangling there.
You cannot control your feet, they
are hands but a more rebellious and
temperamental version. Even people
that work with their hands all day come
home to tired feet. I let my feet do
what they want. You have to be careful
though, if you let them roam then they
will force you to roam. Feet are bulls,
ferocious beasts that are completely
amazing when trained. Hands are hawks
with precision and attention to detail.
Able to caress fine textures with smooth
grace and tenderness.

At the end is a mind, like a little child
perched on a rock, unstable and young.