I want to be occupied by her.
I want her to hang on my every word,
even if it's just a drunken ramble or slur.
Her beauty has my mind so blurred-
I can't think straight.
I want to spend time with her.
Til' eternity- I wait,
on a call from an angel.

Every sentence written will, inevitably,
eventually be forgotten-
forever and eternally- in time.

Cravings for poison-
not eating much else.
Too far gone for tampering.
Darkness. Avoid all the noise and-
stare at the staggering elves.
Unflattering & always scampering.
Constant metamorphosis.
Turbulent cranial fortresses.

Love hurts? I think not!
Vanity may be painful,
though, love: it is not!

Enticed by her eyes,
I release a deep, angst sigh.
Oh- my... I'm in love.

I believe it's, typically,
about two stout deep
when the thoughts of my queen creep-
into the vibrant spotlight of my mind.
These internal gears begin to grind;
this mind, slips my grip... I begin to lose.
Thus, & as such...
I continue sipping brews,
with such high amounts
of ethanol & yeast-,
for- you see- the love that I do love
lays her beautiful mind
about one hundred kilo-'s nor'east.

11:22, what a beau-tiful,
aesthetically, number!
On this evening- though,
it does, truly, prevoke
this mind to believe that it's time-
for a potent bowl of cannabis
& a very restful slumber.