Dust

I can see it

chaotic in the light.

I can feel it inside of me

flowing through my nostrils,

expanding in my lungs,

reverberating my shaky spine:

out and in

and out, again.

A thin film covers the records, the books,

the blinds that are sometimes

shut against the world.

I break the veil with my fingers,

feel it

collecting on the tips:

everything that ever

was, and ever is.

I’m only scratching the surface.

It circulates through the vents

one room

to the next,

one body

to another.

But no one ever mentions

it.

I wonder why.

Out of the zone
Now that I see
I don’t need them
And they don’t need me
I guess I’ll go home
Try to be sane
Try to pretend
None of it happened
Destined to be
Lonely old me
Whoops-a-daisy
I thought I was happy.