Yeah I know,
I write with you in mind,
that you tried
to yank from the black hole
of abandonment a star.
There was this 
wound in your eye,
lovely as the ray of light
the ritual of belief
that wouldn’t dim out.
The bottom of the world,
the means that I have you by,
that makes me thank you
to get me there with a drug
as familiar as its sign.
The pointy horns of law
may not be necessary,
not in this alien domain
of emotional ebb and flow
of the delirious kind.
And what you want
makes no difference at all.
So you start with the euphoria.
You look inside, warmly,
and change from there.