Slide onto the floor
Face cool and catching
Melt into
Not the Earth, but posts and concrete
Slide down in rivulets
Towards the dirt dirt dirt

Who have you been thinking you are, anyway?

Moving through as if to shift
As if a god
When you, patron saint
Morning dew on a statue
Chipping paint of Apollo
When you are OF this earth, not it’s sculptor

Do fucking less, for once
Let things happen to you
You’ll endure, I think
And the offerings will roll in with abundance
More + more with your allowance
When you welcome the fracture of your old colors
In flashes of white and red and your feet
Or not?

Or not
And then what are you but dirt dirt DIRT
Anyway