In Response to a Poem I Wrote One Night, Alone as Fuck, On a Bench at USF Sucking On the Future (I Later Married the Poem)

I think, I think I can still look through the branches and touch the candles of heaven with eyeballs wide and stupid.
The horizon has grown dim: I remain.
The night has grown wintry cold: I remain.
The streets, empty, the ivory tones, faded: I remain.
The horizon explodes, each morning. I sleep beside her. Fuck the sun.
I am entwined.
Complete.
Is it okay, I wonder, to be lost in me?
Am I okay?
I think, I think so.