i awake upon brewing dawn -
stinge of a last hit waltzes past
my beloveds’ fingertips taunted with ash,
and i succumb to hauntings

how i beckon with lost days
overindulge in spoonfed daggers
my blistered throat parallels zir inflamed ego
suffocated deceptive, guilt - scripted coerced, apologizes
escorted by fault down crimson carpets
what a provocative

refusal of touch names me ****?
but the other femme knows another,
another i know well

the grim reaper looms amidst repressed dusk
i plead for rising moons
i appeal for reassurance
query the harlot?
i mustn’t