Dust skin
The sadness around,
Like a breeze of melancholy,
Surrounds my head with sounds,
Whispers of terrible irony.
It wears my skin into dust,
Into soaring particles of life,
Mixing with the environment with lust,
As a reality-embracing lie.
My body, the ground of any construct
Erected into the world,
That body at that moment destruct
-ing itself, bit by bit, chunk by chunk.
So my skin into the air flies up,
An eagle of power embodied,
Trying to reach the clouds as dust,
To complete the circle of eternity.
