Dust on the table makes me worry about who's dust is on the table
who are they where have they been what class goes on in here do they even care, doubtful, do they even care to clean their fingernails?
Have they no respect in a public institution, where they would be spreading their dust through skin shedding that, we, I, us, in a classroom breathe?
Getting stuck in our lungs, in this way we are one, in this way from dust we came, we shed, implant, and ring-around-the-rosie all over again like rabbits eating carrots chasing them down rabbit holes, who am I who are you? Alice or Malice?
Or some *** on the street without words to repeat to people walking by and there's no telling why you'll get by when it gets so cold in the D you'll just have to sit and wait with star struck eyes and sit around pondering, all the questions, why?
What went wrong and watching all the normal folks getting along so you think to yourself maybe it's not all bad because time means nothing to a man on the street with no meetings or schedules or lifestyles on repeat.
I'm talking literally. it's life and that's all,
how is one to know what it's like without a crawl to the very bottom. of a chain.
Dust in the breeze is curious as can be can you please tell me bout people and there ways when they cross paths without pleas to one another without regard for each other what created this disaster could we create a town faster, it could be nicer there. Would you take on my dare?
Notice I say we, together we can try, alone I am nothing but dust in a poem praying for peace and perfection not a slight of hand to me, you, us it’s criminal, terminal now lets take flight and leave these thoughts to decay with the dead, cause when the ugly is planted out will rise dread, it will try and bear fruit for no fare what a rarity arising from natures true way from which we’ve gone astray, what will happen to our bodies when we disconnect from the mother we all share what would happen if she decided not to care we wouldn’t last long without our mothers love but one day she may sift and sway and slip up forgetting something as important as us.
How silly how naïve thinking all we do believe I knew a man who drew up plans depicting the things we gave and more that we did not could not forgot and for that reason we will all fall we will all fall to dust that you, I, us will eventually breath and recycle into everything until the end when carbon collapses into countless coins that won’t mean anything but countless coins, when it ends all that’s left are countless coins, when it ends all that’s left are countless coins. countless coins countless coins. clink clink clink clink rattle tattle tink.