I’ve had enough of eschatology -
I want someone to take me out of here:
Away from him whose wit is sophistry;
Away from her whose beauty is veneer.
I’ve had enough of solipsistic dreams
I’m keen to be awakened, or destroyed
In blankets, sown with insufficient seams,
by bombs that blow before they are deployed.
I‘ve had enough of framing yellowed scrolls
And straining shelves with books I’ll never read -
If they would even place me on their rolls,
How deft in verse-discernment could they be?
I too, am baffled by this bilious heap:
I only hope that now I’ll fall asleep.