Teetering

Laying back, looking at the ceiling.
Emptiness festers, as I come to terms with this feeling.
Flailing, helpless, off the railings
Sitting with a busted deck, unaware, who's dealing?

My wants gather, hungry once more.
Caged for long, now coming to the fore.

As ambitions turn to dust
& ennui blankets thirst
Intelligence wanes & wit slowly rusts.

I look into the mirror & it looks back sneering,
The buffoon slowly teeters on the edge, slowly veering
To a disaster with nothing but wilting scars & guts
Accompanied by his fears & loneliness, his old buds.