The tip-less needle, dragging across my skin, blunt, like the madness of absinthe;

Relentless, jabbing at my brain, the voices echoing, telling me things of wonder;

Hallucinations of dullness, caring only of wonder, luminous, re-dead of pulse;

Walls melt, bold, engraved, proud, yet fruitless of sin, constant grin, the joy of absinthe;

Priest I have sinned, yet I enjoy it so much, that marvelous taste that somehow transforms;

Health, life, family, don’t matter anymore, I nod in joy, is addiction a bad thing?

The green liquid somehow turns to nothing, the smell, perfume-like;

Trickle down my throat, cold yet pleasant, I lay letting it reform my mind,

At the very least, I could say I don’t care about life, but I would be lying;

Absinthe is my only real friend, all those lifeless things out there, are they my friends?

Laying looking into the dull yet seemingly intricate blank wall of glass;

I look into the dead eyes of the green fairy, she lip-syncs what seems to be ‘Do it.’

Terror illuminates throughout my body, I lick my perfumed lips, wondering;

Darkness changes to white, the white changes to darkness;

My life is deep like the waters of deception in a toilet of misery and hate, spiraling downward into the septic tank of destruction;

Colours stand out, seem to glow like fireflies, my world seems to spin;

Voices seem to laugh and giggle, I join in, hoping they are laughing with me;
I am feeling the effects of the green fairy again, heavenly greatness descending upon my numb body;