Clammy Hands

Whoever said clammy hands were gross doesn't know any better. They don't know about the constant anxiety puncturing my chest, Worrying about the unknown and whats to come next I always find my hands inked blue from the dye of my jeans because I viciously try to create some friction just to keep my hands dry Sweaty palms and jittery spasms are a sure way to send away a hot guy But still I cant seem to jerk the feeling of shattering nerves, the churning in my stomach of the devouring paranoia gorging away at whats left of my sanity See they ask me why my hands are always so clammy and it's simpler to blame it on the dominance of my father's chromosomes but the actuality is that these nail imprints on the insides of my hands are the works of tension navigating through my body I clench my hands into fists of stone where the accumulation of perspiration exude onto my sleeves and yet again I'm left with the explanation of why I always have to wipe my hands free of unwanted excretion