Dust, just dust, with a sad or smiling face,
That successful dust who learned to mimic life's pace,
The dust on the outside is sleeping rough and is alone,
While the dust seen through the window has a family and a home.

Sometimes this dust can create and conjure beauty,
And other times it will destroy in the name of fear or duty,
I know some dust who keeps their grace hidden under floorboards,
I know some other dust who sings out their grace with compassionate chords.

I have seen a swirling dust who keeps in perfect time with the breeze,
I have also seen a static dust who refused nature's offering of ease,
Often I see dust succumb to time's hypnosis and monotony,
But occasionally, I see dust be brave and break the silence with a symphony.

Dust, just dust, it is the beginning of me,
From dust were you made and it is our actuality,
The wonder of the world is at the mercy of this fine matter,
We are walking, breathing, dancing dust, we'll paint the glass and watch it shatter.

The hours sprint by as though their only motive is to win cruelty's race,
I reside on my knees, in time's clutch of agony, always despairing at its pernicious pace,
Too fast, too soon does pain come to call at my ever-polite brain,
And my mind, once again, is the awkward host to the unwelcome guest, the uninvited disdain.

Here it is again, the frustrating refrain that permeates my days like the waves upon sand,
As fluid as those waves is my tired brain, yet parched remains my lonely hand,
With all I can muster, I shout at that shadow and beg that it would dissolve into the common darkness,
But despite all my efforts, that shadow returns to stifle my catharsis.

I don't pretend that better days won't come to visit me sometimes,
But I can't deny that without that shadow I would struggle to know life's rhymes,
And perhaps this is the price for a living soul to indulge in that which is real and true,
I won't run, I won't cower, and even if it means hurt, I will look you in the eye and I will see your value.

I awoke to a morning of such brief beauties,
How strange these new realities are,
I'm somewhat scared but would like to claim the euphoria,
On a daily basis I'm now leaving my own mind ajar.

It's a risk and I have been delving deeper by the day,
I never knew my own consciousness could be so foreign,
I've been introspecting since my youth but found new territory today,
There is a prospect that is positive or perhaps it is peril, when you cross the mind's old imperious margin.

Sporadically, I miss you,
Always, I need you,
My great comfort of the past, destroyed,
A snow soul turned to coal, no longer a soul, just a void.

Awake and therefore hating,
Everything but creating,
Made in the image and likeness,
Of this great chaos and detritus.

Your religion did debase my very nature,
It made moribund my might and lukewarm my temperature,
The thief in the night robbed me of hope by adumbrating that eschatological night,
And fate struck a deal with tyrannical tedium to dilute my delight.

A red thread of shame is tightly woven into our silenced souls,
An inherited madness dripped its way down to whoever works the controls,
This nebulous state, this numb state, it's our common default setting,
Here we all are, blind to the brain trick, content in our worldwide forgetting.

Nothing like a perpetually distracted brain to box away the brilliance,
Put that box back in the cupboard, don't you dare invite **** dissonance,
And remember when the party guests arrive, silence is insulting,
Privacy is suspicious, mystery is annoying and thoughts kept to yourself are revolting.

Show us romance, show us pretty, let us always see the screen,
Give us an abundance of fake new reality, let us turn on the simulation rain,
We would like to see her and we would like to see him while pretending we're the ones having fun,
Dopamine is leading the way for us all, our ruling neurotransmitter, our kindly king hormone.

I feel a pull to you,
A gravitational pull,
My mind is full of you,
It is excessively full.

I need a break from this,
A remote kind of break,
Not yours but nature's kiss,
I do know what's at stake.

I had a dream of it,
A bad kind of dream,
Anger you tried to elicit,
You're not what you seem.

My hope coloured my iris,
Temporarily blind,
I can't wade through this detritus,
I have to leave it behind.

Love is real you know?
So many taint its truth,
It is as bold as sun and snow,
And its nature is uncouth.

All encompassing? true.
I could not fathom that,
Oh, but now I do,
It is gold made for the sewer rat.

Desperation within these darker places,
I have an ironed out yearning to bid farewell to those faces,
Who chase me down their corridors of boredom,
I'm towel dried by routine and so stripped of wisdom.

That slithering hand around that cold, lifeless face,
****** and clockwise at one insipid pace,
Tells me I'm late and I've just missed mirth's deadline,
So here I am, consigned to this, life's callous, common flatline.

But I will rage and I will curse at the dust and dawn,
I'll think tightly of a polished image and forget that despotic yawn,
I'll beg truth to show me beauty, ardor and distress,
And I will open my enervated eyes to this old miraculous mess.