juice of the jungle

in the mulling crescendo of midsummer’s eve, a symphony awakens.

jungle juice, oh riotous melody, libation of crimson mayhem,

cavorting in the ubiquity of coolers, brimming with subtly muted cheer.

you, the lifeblood of shadowed parties, the timpani of backyard soirées.

tis a honeyed concerto, a sugar-stewed concoction, fruit in dizzying conjunction,

the world spins as do the bottles in our youthful game, losing focus, gaining fame,

my mind loses me, plunging into the pools of your potency, buoyed by your acclivity,

your lure lies not in lucidity but in absurdity, sweet, sweet, absurdity.

in your viscosity the world sways sentences sway i sway

one minute an elegant soliloquy the next garbled rhapsody

i speak and i speak and i speak yet i do not know

whether my thoughts in jumbles make it to the page

oh i hate you jungl juice you turn my imgaes to hazy oblivoin

you crate my mmessy versus sloppy rhyems lazy cusres

is this chaos obr chreativity you bulr te linee with oyur fruty inpfusion

i tumblhe ionto hte muoth okf madnest i sgin thiis yith a slurrcd signuatur—