Every damn time, I picked my poison,
then drank deep, our communion, let every last drop drip in. 
An innate portent palate for potent hemlock
formed an aged habit that did my deadly bedrock.

Clean water repelled painted lips like holy does demons;
as prayed at false altars; sacrificed myself to exalted heathens. 
Found, unfailing, and by, the devil I know well, no mind adapted new guises; 
played his senseless vapid games; won my due grandiose prizes. 
Denied true devotion to decadent looming drama of treason;
forsook, over and over again, sanity to diligent lurking trauma of “no reason”. 
Battled to tame venomous beasts til slayed, wild, by feigned eternal flames; 
they all but, if not wholly, ghosted the infernal sheath of my remains. 
Silver forked-tongued serpents shed my halo with their anointed savior’s skin,
a penance never paid in full for my obscured but ever assured original sin.

Resurrected, swear were trespasser’s teachings surely, for hard-learned;
the last was the last lost martyr’s gamble persisted fervent til burned. 
Commit anew to eschew the dispiriting-laced thirst of the covert hedonic;
venture fresh offered brews, vow now to be consumed only by nectar or tonic.
Trumpet faith, my nose turned fine-tuned for, and up, at any perilous essence;
condemn past mistastes, forgivable follies of an over extended adolescence. 
Then drink deep, my communion, let every last drop drip in;
and every damned time, I pick my poison.