- This is the first part to a narrative in process.


Solitary dry nights
Of man and wife
Enticed his bottled emerald obsession
Dancing to life
His lovely sprite:
Lulling his ears with drunken kisses

He was drunken with his desire
And only drunken to be with her;
His emerald winged mistress, who sought him
At the bottom of his bottle.

Each shot always went down like fire
Melting the chill of mundane marriage
He drank to sex his High
Secluding himself at nights
Imagination rabid
Desires
Savage

His life was but
Rhetoric routine
Before he met
Her
Before she became lucid
In his delusions
Dancing in a world of green:
The beautiful hues
Of Her

Lips
Of jade
Hair like long locks of ivy
But his favorite shade
Was her emerald eyes
The same
As the bottle that bore Her
 


Every night
He secluded himself
From his wife
To delude himself
In a room
Possessing his holy
Wooden cabinet


One Shot
She whispers

Two shots
She sings

3 shots
- She is out of focus, transparent

4 shots
- She is touchable

The room
Sways
Reality decays

She smiles an Ivy smile
“ You’ve returned to me again. Stay with me longer this time.”

He’s breathless
“… I’m so addicted to you.”

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