Morning, But Not Really

my leg is a rotting log and i am stumps

i am stumps which are crawling with the little maggots

the little white slimy maggots which are crawling under my skin

there are swans all around me 

but they are blind 

or i am invisible 

and i don't know which

i once found myself at a crossroads

i searched within myself

and like they love to say

i took the road less traveled

now i am at the end of the road