Blind Drunk

He takes a breath, guzzles, submerges
deeply into swizzle stick darkness,
down to where daylight’s brightness
becomes a dream; down below the
reality of the late-day’s equatorial
heatwave; below the sun-blind
mad afternoon; down to where
daylight is merely a rumor,
where matter and mythology mix,
where vision’s a distant memory.

——[||]——
dVerse Poets Pub
Tuesday Poetics – 2/10/26
~ I’d Rather Go Blind ~