Charming, you present me your presence
withholding the lines, nary a complete you
a ghost to my touch, a shadow, a pretense
only a trickle of your semi fictions to paint
I only have a fever, colder outside and here
colder in the dream that is all but lucid again
colder the gaze that falls flat upon my brow
the lips that whisper obscenities and laugh
colder, where do I rest my drunken eyes again
I only have a fever, sigh, it is not here to stay
should one thank her stars and sigh, should I
or burn some more in a longing for emptiness
empty pages to fulfill a promise I never made
there was once a garden, drunken delighted
your bare breasts full of a fantasy too many
spring dream, honey drenched, nectar, nectar
nectar, too sweet, drunken delighted, a spring
there was once a garden, it is still there, wide
seasons have changed as they do, but beauty
but beauty has hardly abandoned, withering
oh beautiful withering, drunken desperate
I only have a fever, sigh, colder outside, stay
stay somehow! is there never a promise, stay
never a pact, is there never a promise to stay
how poor then is the man of words, a pauper
a pauper who fades away into the empty page
yet again