Cigar Ash

My eyes are bloodshot
As morning peaks through
The blinds again.
I sit listening to the music
Of dead men and pretentious women
And I realize that
The only death that excites me
Is the one you offer
As you step backwards
And beckon.

So beckon
Draw me in past the old tastes of
Liquour and plaque caked to yellow.
Past five days of stubble
And bruisy bags under the eyes.
Past the rotten mundanities
Of only living.