i proffer this ceremony as tribute to my dust.

i rapture myself
bleed my prayful tribute
that my painted devils may enter in

o how i miss their rutting tongues
caressing soft slaughter
their baleful paean

how can i make this faded bitter thing rejoice?

i profane myself.
one might laugh
for how brightly
i am lost

princesses do not have voices like mine.

fragile moans haunt after unattainable highs
straining, piteous and woeful.

soulful.
fragile.
covetous.

am i home, or simply here?

i lay frozen.
i am brutal unkind.
i have a yearning fatigue.

am i alive enough to climb inside this,
my waning wilderness?

i do not feel the fervor.
i am not possessed.
i am bled dry.

and the lament undid me.