Quietly I sit getting drunk,
A victim of choices, both recent and long-forgotten.
My blood, heavy with wine,
Weighs down my muscles and my nerves and my cares.
The tightness in my shoulders is gone,
The sharp blade, formerly implanted and unmoving in my back, slips away.
The anger, the frustration, the stress and fear…all have been replaced
By my beloved burgundy melancholy.
My eyes feel a velvet purple, soft and blurry, not sharp…
My lips taste a hint of grape.
My head, heavy now, leans to one side,
My shoulders, relaxed, sit lower on my frame,
My legs are like detached stilts, carrying me around without feeling.
My fingers, ever the free spirits, fly with unfettered abandon over the keys.
My heart is rhythmic, unclenched and at rest.
And my mind, free from bondage,
Wanders the cosmos.