I Am, I Will Be Drunk

Content warning: mentions of intoxication and drinking alcohol

Charles Baudelaire,

He said be drunk

I know what he means

I do.

To be drunk on

“Wine or poetry or virtue”

Oh how I would love

To make you drunk on poetry

To feed you my words

Shot by shot

Fiery and sweet like absinthe

Green like envy

Slipping acidly down

Your gullet.

Hot like love

Like love like sweet, dark love

Wrapping around your tongue

In every language

A polyglot of emotion.

Speak to me, speak to me

Tell me are you drunk yet?

Drunk on phrasing,

Innuendo, entendres double

And beyond

A polycule of hidden meanings

Or not so hidden

A flash of cleavage

In a dusky speakeasy.

I’m going to tell you

A secret though

I’m already drunk

Drunk on your presence

Your easy love

Not easy as in



Or even


But easy to be in,

To lose myself in

Freely given in return for

Worship and offerings

And words, words, words

Takk fyrir


My mead, my wine, my drunken heart

Spinning like a head after a

Significant birthday party

My salt-rimmed sweet and sour treat

Cynical and adoring

In equal measures (50 ml)

I know what he meant,

Be drunk, always be drunk

On divinity, on cosmic wonder

On you.

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