i emptied my heart, dug deep within,
peeled off the layers of dust
that smeared my life.
i turn this way â€“ the dust
chokes my head.
i turn that way â€“ the dust swirls
around, engulfing me yet again.
my wound stings, my head spins,
my heart aches.
i watch helplessly
as The Hand erases all the fingerprints
from each page of lined paper.
Existence is swallowed by the rag
with which The Hand swabs viciously.
the pine fragrance lingers.
my wound raw, my head stuporous
my heart sore.