Down and dirty.

I crumble to the floor
more and more often it seems…
Perhaps, I never really get up,
or off of,
out of,
away from,
what’s down and dirty.
Scattered by the shuffling of…
opinions like feet-
some different,
some heavy,
some bare soled
and some tip toed.
Some kick and trip,
some slip.
Most just walk on by
without so much as a kick up
of the dust,
left behind
from the rubble of my life
as it crumbles-
not around me,
or below me,
but within me.
Down and dirty
here I am-
and that’s the truth.
The dirty parts that we swirl around
with our tears
and our fears
and our no truths.
We muddle up
Where we’ve huddled up
and all we need to do is
humble down.
I’m on the floor.
Again.
Sometimes I just lay here and cry
without knowing why,
but the pain seems to be reason enough
to remain here.
But I get up anyways
because down doesn’t really have a bottom
just a pause in the fall,
and I’m not ready-
No.
I am not willing to see
where that will not go
with you.
I am not ready to be
with the antics and shenanigans
of just me.
Down and dirty.
Maybe I crawl.
Maybe I lay here and soak up the cold of the floor
to cool the burn in my soul
because I swear,
I am surely on fire
and burning down slowly.
But I lit the match.
I fanned the flames.
And you cannot go back
from the edge you’ve just stepped over.
I knew it would hurt.
That I would surely lose
that which seemed to have been a gain,
Only to realize that I had merely lost it all
and had been clenching empty fists.
Down and dirty.
Like lies.
Like false everything.
Like love.
and truth.
Like humility.
and courage.
Down and dirty when it slams you to the floor
and wipes the earth with what’s left of you.
Down and dirty when you pull yourself to your knees
and crawl deeper into it.
Down and dirty,
like all journeys that go nowhere
you thought you were going
but have always been
home.

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  1. #1 by SalvaVenia on May 1, 2014 - 3:23 pm

    Looking at life for the beauty of it.

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