What Dust Does

[philo_soph_y]

A bench made me decide to sit beside
Mold.
It just meant more than nowhere else.
That was where I stayed.
Loud mute.
Disintegrates.

Clots fold and  bend                 Send
Gesture to my brain,
But as the weather made scales on my skin
I began to shrivel from within.
Looking at horizons lifting up the sky.
Time slows              my eyes          my
Eyelash speks cast the eve in ochre silhouette.
Mist exscavating night.

Night smiling
As moths sweat in violet haze touches the real
In a dream.
Some reason was living in the wood
Age rubbing back and forth
And there I seduously pulled at
Anything to build new flesh.

Questions don't belong in the brain
Just  let them fall on you
In sheets
In rain
Running with them through the cracks.
Benched
I break the cycle.
Particulate on the seat
Lengthened by the light.

Dance in her rays
Dust I gaze at
Dust I become.
Dust at dusk,
Dust at dawn.