Dust

The razor words cut sharp,

And i turned to dust. 

I don't have the strength to be a man tonight,

So i'll just lie here 

Piled high;

Lacking courage to even take a breath.

Distressed and broken,

My soul is like a tattered sweater;

These words pulled my frayed ends 

To pieces.
Truth cuts past the bone and marrow
To a place in my heart I didn't even know
Existed.
A place of frayed and tattered dust.

Going Home.

The cool earth beckons me
With indescribable sweetness.
My words are my cushion,
My hands a pillow of flesh.
I sleep in the grassy knolls
Sweet marshlands.
My soul connects with life.