The Other Side of Havoc
A welcome mat lies
flat outside the entrance,
a door you thought revolving
each time you came back
needing, not wanting, to start again.
The ways of the world -- out there --
you deemed psychedelic,
the sensuous temptation, irresistible
said the funky colors seemed to fool you
lure you into a trance beyond reality
where illusions of grandeur sucked you in.
But the door’s now gone
and the welcome mat LIES.
One time too many... too late ‒
on the other side of havoc
you lie prostrate in decay.