Off To The Side

I have allowed myself to grow rather sick…

My stomach never settles and the air is always thick…

My palette only craves wine and spirits…

The darkness is comfort and the light fears it…

I search for nothing all day and night…

Nothing holds any fright…

Everything is dizzy and misshapen…

All is foolhardy and mistaken…

Your deep voice will always remain…

Corresponding shallow syllables are one in the same…

Madamchryzl