Once you’re ****** into it
it has you. You disappear. You can’t even see you;
you’re miniscule. You become grey,
a collected blob of dust and particles that is

indistinguishable. You have no
individual form. You’re not even a part, a mishmash
of this and that. Maybe you had fallen off
something, or unraveled. You could be mold and flaked

a tiny speck when you became soft. Maybe you
collected in the air, joined the cobwebs up there
as you floated to the ground. It doesn’t matter
now. No one can ever find you.