where the miniscule roam..

i see strain in a world. the muscles all vascular and tense at the sight of millions of dead bodies strewn across the ground, a stench of wasted life resembling purple ionized flesh.  that image just explodes into my mind.  i see this body; all tension, huge, purple varicose, ripped and weighted down to the earth by some intricate root structure, pulling us down like gravity, until finally we stop struggling. we sink into earth and root, rock and dust or even as ash. the lucky folk alive do not dispute the difference between dust and ash from day to day as they lift it with paper towel or sweep it into a pan.  they see dust and ash alike, no?  that dust is remnants of us.  it is our tough fibered skin, hair, broken tissue into small fragment cells.  you breathe this every day.  its why we change our sheets. it is visibly invisible.  these parts are dying all the time.  they die wanting to bond with ground. 

i see all the hair on my head fallen to the barber's or the bathroom's vinyl flooring, flicked away from my teeth fingernails, toilets and window sills teeming with toenails, sun-burnt flesh rubbed away at a park, or the beach, scratched off with sand.  living cells that are demolished and plucked away, floating gradually with the ether.  holy fuck! i mean part of me just dies and floats away? these are small bits, not so contrary, even keeled amongst us and we take solace knowing; it happens to everybody.

but they don't float so far sometimes.  that dust on my bookcase is due in large part to me.  i mean i'm shedding the shit each day and not being especially tidy in a month or so i place my finger drawing against the grain and flip my finger 180 degrees. ewww. gray like some tint of foul mopwater.  this is what these tiny morsels of self have to look forward to. how lame.  

something Spicoli [once he opened an Italian restaurant] would term; Spaghetti Alla Lameonara.

i'm not telling anybody to save their nails or boogers or whatever but its kinda fucked to think this; you shed some skin one night as you sleep with your window open. little particles of you seep out the window and into the window downstairs where your neighbor or you stranger takes a deep breath and sucks that little part of you away and now its with them.  

every minute a piece of us is dying and most times we just sweep it beneath the carpet.