I prefer reminiscing the peak of dawn,
the scene of myself lying all limp and lanky
after all my energy I transferred
into your lips.
Spent. Unlike the superficial beauty
that I keep alive in my perfume bottle and complexion
to seduce my equally dashing counterpart.
Body of a man.
Face of a woman.
Him? Her? My understanding is blurred
while I’m still drunk on life and nihlism.
I like your big hands, though,
a cheap mimicry of the real package.
Old wisdom told me that
ya ain’t good for me, bubs-!
ever since I dubbed you the ultimate
Generator of Dreams.
But what happens when dreams become a reality?
“Stay,” I sobbed into an imaginary breastcoat
after you smothered me so hard my head swam
in a narcotic pool of my own making.
“Exist. Even if just.
Else I’ll wither.
Lie to me so hard you fail me
Live a little,
Lie a lot.