Have your ever stood on the edge
And wondered?
What does the Black feel like?
Is it that soft brush against your skin?
Which raises the hackles?
Or would it cling like tar
Hot and sticky
Seeping into your pores and
Down to your very soul
Solidly encasing it in stone.
What does it taste like?
Does it brush against your lips
A whisper, a kiss?
Or does it flow down your throat
Choking, clogging, no air.
And what smell would it have?
Would it be a gentle reminder
Of a distant memory, buried deep
Or would it slam into your senses
Like a wind carrying the scent
Of Long Forgotten memories
That wound the heart.
If I took that step, from the edge
Would the Black softly receive me
Or burn forever, relentlessly?
Would it gently beckon me or
Would it reach out its long bony fingers and
Seize me
With no choice?
Have you ever wondered?

Just got back from a little trip
wasn't planned, down the mississip
started out from just one sip
of a drink I can't remember

went on down to the land of cotton
woke up really feeling rotten
I can't remember the drink i'd gotten
but, I needed one again

head was fuzzy, vision blurred
one more down, and i'd be cured
instead, now my speech is slurred
but, ****...that drink was smooth

chose to go down to the river
my brain not working, nor my liver
my eyes were closed down to a sliver
I had to find that drink

I saw a re-enactment of a battle
I didn't listen to the prattle
the armies were just led like cattle
to their deaths without a chance

I knew that I saw lots more men
than were actually there right then
my vision saw five score times ten
while there was only twenty two

I relaxed and I loved the feeling
this drink had set my mind a reeling
I feel I could dance on the ceiling
all of this from just one drink

no matter, I swore I'd behave
no comments made about a slave
or I'd be in a shallow grave
and would never drink again

I searched around for near a week
my throat was closed, I could not speak
I hadn't eaten and was weak
but, **** I needed more

i'm sure it had some blue cacao
I need to find out, find out now
i'm not sure when, but I know how
I'll go back to the start

I flew on home and went to where
i'd had the drink on someone's dare
another one of the dog's hair
and i'd start it all again

they told me that the drink i'd drunk
was just some automotive gunk
they moved it cause it smelled like skunk
and I chose to drink it down

some oil and some antifreeze
was the drink that brought me to my knees
they thought i'd die, or at least sieze
but, I guess I proved them wrong

so next time when I have a drink
I think i'll take some time to think
will I notice if it has a stink
before I choose to drink the brew

before I go some sage advice
don't be like me, at least think twice
if you want a trip with added spice
order up one drink from me.

If there's one thing I've learned,
It's that love is real
And it does exist.
And you have no idea
What it is like
Until you're over your head in it.
And there's never really a specific moment
In which you fall in love with someone.
After a while, you just realize that
The way they squeal a little
When they laugh to hard,
Or how they always get  way too many banana peppers on their snadwich,
Or how they jump out from behind a corner and scare you
And laugh hysterically because you screamed,
Even though they knew you would.
Or how their heartbeat sounds when they're holding you in your arms,
Are things that you can't imagine ever living without.

And if you ever went to Subway with another person,
And they didn't ask for extra banana peppers,
It just wouldn't feel right.

And I love you.

No matter how many boys
I bring into my bed,
None of them are you
And you're not coming back.

I miss you every day
And I secretly pretend
That the other boys are you
Closing my eyes,
Imagining yours.

Sometimes, *** is just ***
As it usually seems to be
But with you,
It was love.

I don't want a smoker, nor do I want a drinker.
I do want full on passion, with another free thinker.
I don't want my fire extinguished, by the one who fights fire with fire.
I'm burning inside, don't put me out.
I don't want to save him, nor to be saved.
Ipsofacto.
And so that zany poet raved!
(c) Livvi