Friday, August 17, 2012

Dance Becomes Me

Dance Becomes Me
By: James Dubeau

Living on the razor
I step cautiously upon the blade
The knife edge slices into my flesh
Greasy blood trails in my wake
Careful not to slip
Not to fall
To either side
A cough emerges
From my parched throat
Keeping me awake
Though the midnight hours
Not permitting sleep
Peaceful rest
To rejuvenate my body
Hunger aches deep in my belly
My soul cries
With a cracking voice
I can do this
Silent at first
But growing
No longer do I fear
Swirling storm clouds
Or a heaven turned black
Big wet drops plummet
Washing away my blood soaked trail
And razor transforms
To a moss covered garden path
I am drenched from head to toe
Dance becomes me

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