Absinthe
I drink to the future in emerald green
a gold-rimmed glass that smells of anise
I drink to the future in viridian fluid
poured from the neck of a stately bottle
that stands proud of my uncertainty
and teases my sanity up in knots
I drink to you and I sip the green
and feel the frost trickle down my throat
as a sugarcoated miasma drips
beads of acid into my stomach
that begin to feast on its fleshy walls
Sweet absinthe! Oh glorious spirit!
How I yearn for your icy fingers
to stroke at my heart in exclusive comfort
I turn my glass with shaky fingers
and stare into your olive continence
Oblivion is familiar with us all
It knows us as one knows one�s child
We were together before I was born
We will be together after I am gone
And no one shall know the difference
Smiling, I sip again
not reeling at the invasion of delirium
The stranger feeling of losing one�s own self
But welcoming it as one welcomes a friend
that one has not seen for many years
who shall be with you for quite some time