The degree seems perfect
balanced
between inebriants
taunting joy and depth
with discoloration

Instants strung out
waiting for acceptance
I accept I accept this
reality's
smoking gun

and head for another
lens on alliteration
I am a sounding
a turgid probe
reaching

I wait for understanding
in semi-darkness
Babylon plays
in the background
sinking

Your internal organs
push on
relentless while
your explanations run
to catch up