I Sore

Discomfit morning, thy name be fugue
Attentively scorning, defamed insight
I beckon in letters: please guide intent
Ongoing severs forget and relent
Recovery months are spattered with salt

Round circle dots make craters by pen 
Slowly the smoke reveals not a fire
Images choke and ember my ire
Eyes on the lake to see who I am
Drank as I drown in reflection dram