Sunday, April 3, 2011

Terminal Proof

Sweet incense of your breath that clouds my mind
Altered states of consciousness from the fumes of your skin
The poison from your lips would put me under
just a taste, the room would start to spin  

The bright bouquet of your words is heady and strong
Drunk with you, my reason is unsound
Chasing highs and reaching for the bottle
just one more taste, before I find I’ve drowned

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