Pot noodle dinners

In the arms of a pension
with haste I lay
the ocean of self lay still
an ubiquitous ladder was all I could see,
conceit for pot noodle dinners

The dreams lay dormant
in the fountain of youth
compulsion for doing took flight
such time to discover
never appealed,
distaste for pot noodle dinners

The hovel of hurry
accustomed I was
fear of falling through cracks
such mists of the soul
the eyes could not bear,
afraid of pot noodle dinners

sycophantic sentiment
feasting on youth
life's light now garishly crude
obstinate of spirit
the flesh carries on,
with thought of pot noodle dinners

True teachings of time
my soul lay loathsome 
ear finally bequeaths to heart
forgive me my flight
from trial and truth,
how I long for pot noodle dinners.