i feel like lilith most of the time
--these days, nights, and heavy-worn, ware-torn mornings and tonights.
because, you see, lilith and i share a bond,
even though i'm weak and she's strong, but she says she'll always be fond
of me. because she loves me,
my imaginary, illusionary lover--her.
lilith is calling, is telling, is yelling for me to this and that
like drinking one more sip (one more tipple) or de-barking the bat.
she is right (most of the time)--
at least she never lies
and she always asks,
different from you, not like the indignation in which i bask
and my skin is scorching, nearly blistering, burning, and peeling.
but still, lilith is there for me.
and that's more than i can say: about you.