The sweet panacea stroking my inner throat,

Intruding my core,

Lilts me to my left--

Lilts me to disconsonance.

A tintinnabulation of maracas and calabanzas

Beguiles me right,

Past my zenith,

And into a demigod.

A gondolier

Of Byzantine intricacies,

Who is as extemporaneous

As the seagoat.

And I begin dancing

Cascading to my emotions

And feeling cured;

Enveloped in the arms of this...

Demigod.