Quicksand

I dreamed my feet were sand

quick I stood there.

Unable to move, and reached for

stable ground.

I sunk into my skeleton

and fell into a routine of loose

gravel and sparse shores.

Bones became loose marbles

rattling within my feet

and I tripped over gravity

from my panic to my passiveness.

Each clank screamed out a dream

before it popped, fizzled into slammed waves.

Watery hands grabbed at my shoulders

and pulled me beneath

my powder skin

and I woke to gasps and tremble frantic hands.

Trapped within my pine box routine,

I opened my mouth 

to release my quicksand words.