my vision is blurry
it refuses to do as I please
endless tears and too much wine
I’m certain are to blame for this rebellion
but as luck would have it
this place feels familiar
even if my eyes refuse to see it
my soul still carries along a map of my words
so I can’t just excuse my habits on bad memory
I keep writing in undefined hieroglyphs
and hope my heart and mind know me well enough
to translate all these nonsensical sentiments
into logic
in the morning.
A.P. Bastian 