when the room is a mess

Go home to your doctors. Leave behind your whiskey and spirit-glass. Already you tripped over the full length of the mirror and caused a falling out between alter-altars. Today is the old Tuesday when rain holds back and grapes turn to stomp on feet. Things in waiting get done in a flash and all abdominal scars heal. Hearts are another thing, on a timescale bigger than galactic. A bowl of cereal will get you through the day healthily; an apple, a year. Arbitrary vessels hold all sorts of ambitious wisdom that may or may not be strung to any anchor.