hypothermic hands

i can't feel my hands.
my palms feel like they're being stuck with needles.
it burns. it really burns, like a thousand pinpricks.
the surfaces are soft, and pale.
i am brittle, and smooth.
my hands are frozen to the point of tingles.
they tickle all up and down my hands.
i feel them, ghostly.
i can't feel them at all.
tick, tock...the clock says that it's 3:15.
i am hypothermic.
my shivers are here, my shivers are travelling.
destroy the demons.
throw them out of this world.
we are the ghost hands of god.
i can't feel my hands.
this is the burning wrath that circles my fingers.
putting everyone else in danger,
these hands are stuck with a thousand pinpricks.
look to me.
these are my hands, that are not mine.
here comes the rapture.
hands come down, in streaks of silver.
six by six, they grab, they ravage, they save.
these hands are mine to stretch, to knead.
these hands are silent, not feeling.
i look to my clock. it's still ticking down.
i am god's hypothermic hands.