treat me like a princess, treat me like a whore
you never could quite decide
as you murmured contradictory compliments against my
naked hip and tried

oh, you tried so very hard
to polish your illusions spit-shine clean
before they shattered like dried and brittle branches in
the whispering winter wind
where you always seem find yourself
despite attempts
to flee halfhearted anticipation and
the slide of satin against silk slick skin

did you notice that the sun came out
at night, but only when
the laughing bastard in the moon played
hide and seek with
honorable intentions?

I said I'd never shun the sun

moonlight, daylight, sunlight, midnight never
meant much to you, other than
semantics; just more words trapped in
careless convention, assigned empty delusions from a
half-starved flock of sheep. perhaps
you're still apathetic, searching for the
syringe, but even then the
catatonic state, sadly, might be permanent
you'll never know until you try

strange how the addiction weakens when
I realize, maybe this is
just another drug, a caffeine-high to my
boredom-soaked, hazy morning and a
brutal anesthetic substituting truth

in the end it wasn't me but