_ Drunk and Musing

Do you know of the optical illusion where the sky touches the earth? The horizon doesn't exist. Or does it?

Perhaps it’s where dead children frolic? Where tumors become newborns?

Where dreams forgotten are

fermented, turned alcoholic?

Like most drunkards, you and I forget even kisses between

the earth and sky do not linger.

And the faster I approach the horizon, the farther away it seems. So perhaps most things are better left as just that, just untouchable dreams.