I’ve rolled with every punch — gone with the flow;
resisting blows is futile, as is prayer.
For ducking (dodging) is no way to grow;
but knowing how to fall, one’s half way there.
So down the conduit pipe I did descend;
volcano in reverse is how it seems.
It sucks me right down to the bitter end.
At least it can’t get worse (it stole my dreams).
But if I’d known I’d fall this downly far
I might have used a safety net or wire.
This stunt falls way outside my repertoire;
I’m right where I deserve to be (hellfire).
I’ve not been here before — it’s something new.
My skin is cut to shreds; I’m black and blue.
© Alan Morrison, 2014