night tonic

I become intoxicated from reading too much too quickly. I swallow words like liquor and suddenly pages are emptied, my focus scattered, my thoughts strange and uneven against some other beat. I try to stand, try to talk about the mundane, and I feel the tension between this high twisting refracting perspective and what it is that everyone else wants to talk about...

I blink and walk slowly and try to find someone who will speak to me in this way, just tonight. Perhaps that is why you find me when you're in such a state, you know I will break away from idle how are you what's going on to try to meet you there, you know I will always be here and thinking of there, I want someone to be that for me.

Yet I always fear that inevitably, someone will say,
(tonight it's me): Shut the book, Di. Let it rest for tonight.
Come to bed. This will all fade in the morning.