I see the ceiling patched up

I see those patches peeling and giving up.

I see the toll of time -

All it does to the body

All it requires of the mind.

We are specters of our decline in slow motion;

Merciless

Unaffected by our pleas for reversal.

I see the toll of depression,

How it degenerates the mind. 

An atrophy of desire.

An acute awareness of time and its nature.

I see the toll of dread

When you wake up on the ceiling

An aeriel view of a corpse

Decomposing on your side of the bed

An aeriel view of everything that disconcerts you

You mind, your body, your soul

And all we're predisposed to.