jumping the ladder

unsure what to make of
the grab and attempt
to hold

i’m more aware
than they know

one too many
compliments is
always a flag

that when waved in
ignorance and gluttony
makes hands slippery

thought
part of me thinks it’s moving too fast, that i should stop and center, but stopping never finds me realigned to the middle way, and i’ve no words to explain what’s happening, but i’m scared; not a monster under the bed kind of fear, just the old i don’t want to be seen fear, along with an amplified realization that there’s no way to continue hiding, which is tearing through layers of dna fabric sewn into personality, and the urge to shut down, go dark, and continue sewing leaves me clinging to the poles.