pop quiz...

climbing down ladders
rickety stairs cased and welled
to lower lower levels
where rungs and railings guide
to a safer compliance...
...balance

some places never visited
wasted space?
with chalky residue powdering palms
raspy fingers flick
kicked about dust puffs
scattered
redeposited micro plumes
drifting elsewhere between
respecting the newly placed indentions
prints of trespass
exposing the intruder
evidence of invasion...
...a question

the room there
dimly lit
struggling light of unknown origin
intent on barely gracing outlines
beyond undefined shadows

sound of heartbeat
rhythmically rejuvenating circulatory pulse
each beat ever so slightly less
weakening
like an eventual nothingness is all
that will finally be heard...
...probably

the smell is an arid must
void of oils
the life lubricant
usual breeding grounds
where enzymes can proliferate
evolving from must to musk
that funk is not here
that spunk...
...that junk

a chair
both old and hard
faded dull varnish
a residue of a former glossy past
where moisture once beaded
a shielded force field
repelled digs
deflected scratches
projected luster
now but tools for static application...
...props

i could sit in that chair
hours on end
neatly tucked under the table edge
hands clasped
elbows opposed
a clerical secretarial buddha prone
wondering...
...now what

i can wonder about the war outside
how i can't stop it
but maybe affect it
undermine it
divert it
i can wonder about collective manipulation
how i can't stop it
but maybe reflect it
unravel it
subvert it
or i can just stay here
in this never used dirty room
safe
locked away
listening
counting that thumping rhythm...
...fading into bliss