Infatuation

Self-laceration, ethanol intoxication, anaerobic metabolization
Hypertense salination, just anything will do for this fixation
Glucose, fructose, dextrose, sucrose, maltose, prompting salivation
Protein and oxygen, sustaining this incarnation
Glass of water, take a nap, fawn and fall from tantalization
Another bout of inhibition: aid via inebriation
A deeper form of auto-asphyxiation
followed by disappointing auto-defenstration
Abstraction escaping concretization
Chilling for preservation
No reverence for life’s station
Liberty enacted radically usurping destination
Broken intonation for a melancholy audiation
Visualization of nothing beyond imagination
Barred depression, anxiety, no coming to realization
Depths of disenchantment leave no space for persuasion
Cyclically revolving diurnal and nocturnal peregrination
Evisceration of fantastical illusory forthcoming salvation
Coming to idealize only inevitable nihilation

Composing

To compose a song
To sing a long
With a mental melody
And nebulous harmony
Go on to a solo
Then get all mellow
Start a round of jazz
–and all that jazz
Or write some smooth blues
Color the sound with blocks and hues
Force down a trill
Or scale the mill
Compose a song
While singing along
And just as I have said

Cherry Vodka

Sweet cherry vodka I cannot rid myself of thee
Everytime I get away I crawl back to you in agony
I just need one more drink, another sip tonight
And then I promise I can go make things right

From childhood I learned to love your sweet embrace
I thought one day I’d leave you but I fear that’s not the case
So pour me another glass, dear, you’ve always been so faithful
Everyone else deceived me, how could I have been so hateful?

Kiss me again, no, fuck me against the wall
Let me feel your sweet lips caress my body, doll
Honey, I want to feel you deep inside me
Yes, of course I will get on my knees

Bloom

In silence we lie.
And to think I didn't know
how fleeting was our goodbye.

In you I see a bright glow.
You bring about such desire.
Such desire I hitherto did not know.

So much in you I admire,
your wit, your charm, your drive for adventure.
You bleed the lines of admiration and desire.

There'd been days that I'd conjecture
your subtle movements were in fact hints.
Were we to had have gone forth would have been quite the adventure.

While my heart and eyes wander, none like you have been around since.
Only in absence via distance could or did I ever find myself away.
Still, sipping from this chalice I contemplate new hints.

Here I write to you on a midsummer's day,
and if I could be with you
I'd wash the whole season away.

For what time we have left there is so much to do.
In a dream so much to confide,
but enough about me; isn't this one about you?