My one true love, she calls my name.
I fly to her— like moth to flame—
She’s not at fault ‘cause I’m to blame.
It’s what I need— it’s not a game.

Gelastic jive— the way I talk—
I lost the key, but there’s no lock.
And even whilst mid zombie walk,
I recognize...  take careful stock.

From this madness comes frustrations—
They’re producing invitations
Through my liver, penetrations,
From the liquid fueled sensations.

She’s my goddess, a queen— divine.
Her purple prose, pray at her shrine,
Because of her I’m feeling fine...
Plus forty gulps of breakfast wine.