Shredding

Instead of dying in bits and pieces,
rather collect your bones and
turn them into bricks and build a hut,
to shelter the fragments of charred
memories, in a sutty old oven.
If the end never breaches
the gloominess that resides under your skin,
rather collect beginnings
of morning dews and sunflowers
and cage them in a cozy little blanket
that shields your universe.
Stop drenching the dusty grounds
with red ink trickling down your veins.
Rather  collect them in ounces,
weight them with what's left in your soul
And sell them to ones who seek peace.
And when that doesn't give you solace
bury yourself within a thick veil
of hollow cove in an eternal dune,
with ebbing light inside your weak chest,
foraging  what others have left on their way.