Absinthe

 It is an acquired taste, not for the squeamish, if you don’t have the balls for it, leave, be of strong will, so the surrender is so much sweeter, take it in slow sips, feel the tingling in your spine, there is something creeping up my leg, a vine, tulips, no my imagination is not that wilde, swirl it in your mouth, feel the drumbeat of your heart, let it burn your tongue, green fairies in the buff dance in the head to the tune of a different drummer, here the music of the spheres, give in, absinthe, it will be the death of me, can’t live without it.