The Absinthe of Desire

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Absinthe has been a favourite drink of poets and artists for centuries. . . . The high has been described as ‘exhilarating’. . . . the illusion of order persists, but everything is in fact slightly out-of-whack, cock-eyed, with sinister overtones. One’s psyche sinks down through layers of perception and mind-games to the very centre of one’s desire. . .

The absinthe of desire

that wicked brew,
distilled,
the audacity
of strangers, the honey
of deceit, the fine white
toxin of delusions
clouding the senses,
precipitating lies, like
snowflakes, our kisses
melting
in the dark,
passion flares
like a match,
we may drop
out of love
as easily as
absinthe slips
down the throat,

but even now we know
the hangover will linger
for years, it will be
the one sure thing
of our lives.