I collect others' karmic dust

cure &&& heal the unconscious

like a vacuum, I suction up

trials &&& trauma that disrupt

daily lives leaving them in disrepair

disturbances that dare to keep

them on the edge of their toes

like volcanoes verging to erupt.

Then wring my hands til blood

runs circling the sink accusing

everything but the boundaries

I don't put up, to protect the

sacred sanctity of my own sanity,

a counterintuitive cycle that needs

to complete, so that it leads to the

death of this dance that defeats.

Nothing compared to the joy it depletes.