PBR Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a PBR?

Thou art far more intoxicating, dear.

I loathe the time between you being here

when my poor lips doth dry and crack and scar

while in vain wishing on the faintest stars

as we wait worrisomely for the clear

liquid of thy love to drown all my fears

seizing you on a horizontal bar

vagary a lover often  nixies

but a lover true at  heart will give in

to desire and enjoy thee in sixes

opening my mouth to let thee rush in

again and again I get my fixes

I am passed out on the floor in end.