Save Me A Sign

Breathing
lets the bad
dust inside,
yet I
continue.

Blanket-lit
halls host
a cosmic
banquet,
not intended
for this
notation,
not fit
for casual
consumption.

Frost-leaning,
this brisk afternoon
air unravels
my jaw-clench,

flips my somersault-eye,
massages my leg-tremors,
does me all sorts of wonders.

The words,
they bring you
out of it.

Or in some cases,
so far in
you can't get out.