Diluted Dilusions

You fret and fume about almost nothing
these days
You keep my eyesight short
I- for a change - empty the hours
From the prejudice bowls
And egregious blunder grandeur;
Regrets are only indicative
Consecutive
Like pay back times
On the brink of an out-of-order grave
broken and dug again
from scratch
A self-propelled wing
Deviated by the presence of a finish line
Makes up proverbs about deer footprints,
mistletoe and honeycombs
There's no more room for letting down.