Maybe words aren’t enough. Maybe you need to see my face twist in pain. Maybe you need to hold out your hand and let the tears I never cry burn a hole right through your palm. Maybe I need to cover your mouth so you lose your breath like I do when I listen to music. Maybe you need to hear my fist pound the desk as I scream the words an inch from your face. Maybe I need to stab you with my words. Maybe I need to kiss you with them. If I hate you with them, will you feel it then? Maybe you need to put your ear to my chest so you can wonder if that’s my heart or a bloody machine gun. Maybe you need my eyes so you can see the horrors I see in the mirror. You never believe me when I tell you, so maybe you need them to see what I see when I look at you. Maybe I need to put my arms around you so you can feel me shaking. Maybe you need to see the look on my face when I lie and say it’s just adrenaline. Maybe my words are shit and never come out the way they sound in my head, so maybe I’ll just stop talking. Then maybe all you’ll need to do is just fucking hold me.
Ian Kinsler showing off the range, glove and arm. We approve of all three.