Against Engulfment

dust and dust, the boy
now rust. in truth, and thus
now thoughts of lust
alone, at last, a boy
we trust

a man at sea, his throat
cut deep, in truth to free a deeper dream
seized and wrung out like the weeds
squeezed and flung out like disease

a dragon with no wings or gold
a smoldered grave, the truth be told
trapped with naught but moths and mold
tortured but for scales he sold

and dust and dust – a soul,
now rust; the gold a plus, but truthfully
the dream
or bust