Poetry on what, rather who could be tastier, lovelier and more addictive than alcohol.
Higher than the heights, she gets. Harder than the stone.
Deeper than the Pot. With her thoughts, all alone.
Wasted like a weed, I feel greener than the grass,
Loaded in the head, and her memories won’t pass.
Lighter than the smoke, she is farther than she’s gone,
Sharper than a syringe pin, still turning me on.
Sweet as sugar sound her words, Acidic is the trip.
Boozer standing on a plain, No substance to grip.
Deadlier than a drinking binge, Tipsier than the Floyd
Lovelier than liquor she, left me emptier than void.
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