In Death's Armoire

At a distance, listening,        
to the hyenas    
sounding the dripping      
of caffeine addiction          
       
my life is not an open book        
I carry it in my pocket        
dogeared like a compass        
touching your breathing breasts        
       
in death's armoire eroticism        
once upon a negligee          
so gentle the memories        
of love's intimacies        
       
entering the moth's shadow        
dressed in phantom's lace        
from the archives of my mind        
and genesis of my awakening        
       
seven days make only a sleep        
of my renaissance seeking        
until the twilight calling        
stirring the stare of my thirst        
       
sounding the dripping    
and midnight apnea      
of caffeine addiction  
cataractin' my veins