dust-be-gone
by Me
They called the wind "dust-be-gone" and "truth-hater."
Given freely and in qunatity it had the most amazing properties;
flight, astral projection, temptation, fixation, and glee.
Besides these the succulent promise
of endless distraction.
Turning on the brain like a light switch
we chance to notice people who are different
we travel in strange circles
Circumscribing our angst with leopard print goblets
and orangatang laughter.
A sheep fellow for a queen when the bed is too cold.
A king for the merchant-whore when his fire has cooled.
The wind blows in a circle, without any edges or care.
My only wish for it to consume me finally.
Once and for all.
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