today i will tell myself that everything is somehow alright:
despite the horrific urge to give the cosmos an apology:
"sorry, love--i'll have your tempo in the next rendition,"

as i hyperventilate some desperate song

heaven forgive me
if only for being so sorry
soon i will have you right where i want you
and we need not say a word

no more apologies and gratuities
no more labyrinth reminisces
of fermented yesterdays that
have brewed themselves too potent
to come out of with sober heart--

and here i am,
now awake,
drunkenness lingering,
in a quiet hope to find a place where
everything becomes jeweled and crowned, at last--
the world adorned as worthy,
hearts no longer heavy,
eyes without strain