Stayed
up late,
Looking
at the ladder,
To
where it leads,
Anyone’s
guess’s as good as mine
A
swarm
Of
thoughts,
A
storm of
Hypersensitivity,
A
mass of volumes, of decrees—
Desolate
and scorn
That
drives me awake at night—
Been
thinking of that ladder
Deep
into the early hours—
To
where it goes,
Anyone’s
guess’s as good as mine
Drooping
bags, hanging low
Dimpled
skin,
Been
posing so long
As
depressions kin,
In
a poster world—
Composed,
of dregs, lepers and sommeliers
It’s
often hard to tell which is worse—
Yet
an interest in new horizons
Can
hurt the wrinkled cheek,
As
suddenly the unexpected
Smile
emerges from its sleep
It’s
times like these
I
get so scared,
And
really take the moment
To
ponder (in) decision,
Should
I sit and see this through?
Should
I ignore the signs and let it slip from view?
Or
should,
Should
I climb that ladder, and see where the last rung leads?
Where’s
it gonna take me to?
Well—anyone’s
guess’s as good as mine.
