mistake.

drunken as my love,
wreath of your sins going to behold
needing
the breath so divine.

how are things i ask to this waste so divine,
and all i can think of what is blithe,
where have you been all my life,
kill to what is of you feel you behold
here in this;
sordid a place would you ask of home,
a bringer of such
the need is you take so broken.
only to partake the schedule
it is already taken.

wait.
the next is what maybe mistaken....