The Struggle

The air blows cold on my outstretched arms
I feel my fingers wrap around
I speak words slowly
I think slowly
The dirt caked on my hands breaks into fine lined spider web designs

The air blows cold on your outstretched legs
Sunlight speckles stutter across
You move your face
You move your face again
Patterns of purpose prepare a march across your prosperous thighs

Between every crack on the wall
And every crack on the ceiling
We find ourselves, finding ourselves
An eternal struggle