The shadows flick
Faster and faster of
The fan until it
Turns into a UFO and
Detaches from the
Ceiling to fly away.

I'm drunk on
Exhaustion
High on
Poetry.

The invisible pattern
On the wall begins
To dance, the curlicues
Tangoing with fleur-d'les
To the silent drumbeat
Of my heart in my ears.

I'm intoxicated from
My thoughts
Completely smashed on
Shards of mirrors and the
Dregs of any
Innocence I had left.

I'll watch the numbers
Flash backwards, just
Let time turn around
Clocks will melt
Even in air-conditioning
I've got a
Pounding headache and
Tomorrow I'll be
Hungover
On my soul.