Muddlemush #3

I think I'd like to waste away
into air

Leave no trace of myself or the sorry chicken scratch of my youth
on the walls of desolate humanity

I think I'd like some space to breath
in the open fumes of worry and regret
God knows I'll never know the perfume of success

I've become tired, I have become bone
and my fingers wood, rubbing so hard that they light afire
and burn my all down

If I was a house, I would be all windows
the floors would be made of sky
and all I would contain was thought
and I'd be positioned on a hill so high
no one would be around to see me, to hear me, to care

And maybe the wind would blow and shatter me
and my thoughts would be cast out
and torn to bloodied shreds
and they'd adorn my glass slivers for years beyond

Or maybe I'd become a red dwarf star
sucked dry of all life
and I'd be cold
and I'd be dim
and I'd enjoy the quiet solace

Or maybe I'd become a stream that  flowed with compassion
and settled into flowers and towering trees
and birthed fish in vitality
and I'd reach the sea
and I'd find peace in the oxygen we all breathe