Plus One

Who could it be?

This plus one, that follows my silly words of absurd meaning I'm leaning towards my plus one. My sick sanctuary, this place I come to drink and think when nothing's right and I have no fight left but to push on against the blindfold, feeling like Helen Keller where is that feller. Femme or foe, don't stump my big toe...a smile across my face as up the hill I race for an audience I have none, but I still have my plus one. My light in the night.