Written on my bus on the way home.
It seeps across me like a faded scarlet letter
Weeping into my skin
Leaching away the color from my soul
Breaking atom's bonds
Dissolving being so that
Dissipation is sweet smoke
Who can hold my hand when it is made of vapor?
If I smell of death, sweet and thick,
Who will not see the shaded d on my breast?
So sun to hold my orbit
The friction of being eats me.
And yet it is the smallest grain at the heart of worlds
Speed and spun
Gaining mass and pulling to
Building worlds, breathing life
I must only find the grain