When will I finally reach the ultimate summit,
There,
Where with a cheek to the world I will have
Quested,
Battered entropy,
Effaced the status quo
While
With knowledge that the world was out to get me,
Was a dark place
That would eventually kill me,
Reached that light of smashed dinner plates,
And then reassembled those same dinner plates
With the bitterness known as maturity,
Empty, stagnant consideration
Of situations human
With nothing on my mind but the fear of death.
.
We’ll all drink here,
In the closed quarters
Of our minds.