dust.

it's the slack lies.
that i am not any
one.
and i'm not.

it's the rabbit hole that takes me
the one that taught me to
swallow
all the sludge they burned me with
or at least what i thought they scorned
when my stumbles got stuck in lamp light.

my black seems worse on the pavement.

odd how the snares linger and
make for more black.

how the black made for the creation of
shadow
& self i never meant.
but the bless is that shadows
are less than dust.

maybe the shadow dust can be taken
& my marbled me return.