Tonight I'll Drink Wine

Tonight, I'll drink wine and insist on staying indoors, shielding myself from the musty humidity of this unwelcome heat.
Tomorrow, I'll be hazy with puddles of sweat on my cotton pillow case, dripping with the destiny of fever dreams I'll never recall again.
It's with swallows I yield cottony smack of gums on teeth to groan and breathe first nascent breath upon my tomb of a room.
It's the sliver of sunlight slicing through my blinds at angles to my eye that stir me from my sleep and deride me for forgetting to think.
I'm at odds with the morning, too tender to care for even one more day without an enlightened guffaw to keep me real.
This tome of my life, too empty with spotted speckles of ink, ellipses drawn where marvelous minutae should thrive and cry to all to know me.
But in time I can dive in the deep ends of pools, to swim and open my eyes underwater with stinging Chlorine imploring the wince of my soulless lie.
To be braver than God and to dine on the mystical berries of the cavernous unknown, spelunking to depths of an echoless chamber of love.
I can see the shimmer of moist corneal detritus when I blink, and can guide my heart by the pulse in my neck.
And when the ropes start to weaken and tethers unwind to fray and threaten my doom, I can learn to float in the void of black and nothingness for you.
And you will see me, weightless, bouncing, gravity at odds with my sordid delusions of might, and sigh the sigh of the lonesome lioness, waiting for her King to come home.
Ah, but Kings do one thing well, and one alone: Besmirch their husking lusts for fear of overthrow and dwindling grip.
And keep their passions at arm's length until they're drawn and quartered.
The mighty beasts of justice do capitulate and exact the swift red rivers of the gluttonous and sin-soaked demons.
But if I float here long enough, blind within the colorless casket gloom of the bottomless cave, my kingdom will survive.
And my queen, my lioness, will caress me when I return.