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

Stronger

Louder

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

Smiling

Dance becomes me