One shot poetry attempt - version ?8?

In this moment my fingers are semi-conscious.

They track across keys slow and deliberate.

Booze opens the spirit, the soul, the mind.

But it surely slows the body.

It opens truths not wanted by my fully conscious self.

Is my fully conscious self really me?

It's a question I am not prepared to answer, or advance.

It's a question I cannot learn.

I don't understand the things I know and don't.

It's a question learned in full.

I am not with others. I am not in full. I dance on the edge of production.

I move on the edge of complete.

I am betwixt and between, to steal a famous line,

But, I am not in a liminal space. I am here with you, and me and us.

But, I am not sure how to make them all come together.

I am betwixt and between my inner and outer selves.

I may never learn the bridge.

I may never know the touch.

Good day sweet daylight, misrememberer of  dark connections.

Good night sweet moon, lover of dark conceits.

This is gibberish now.

Maybe it always was.

Maybe that's all it was supposed to be.

I tried, and failed, and will try again anew.