The delusions of youth slip away slip away dripping like a dog's wet tongue into yesterdays months soggy soot.

Table Talk

"I wonder what dying is like..." she said with intention of reaction, an attention she felt was deserved yet leaking out the sides and pouring down the garbage filled gutter, the love rotting drain.
"I don't think its like anything, really.", He mumbled and sighed, fidgeting, uncomfortable and unsure of the tone in his lackluster voice, in monotonously re-hashing a conversation had with too many other sob stories and basket cases in the dirty rat race of a city. He looked down at the menu. She looked down too... biting hard on her protruding lip and welling up with tears the size of the globing droplets pacing down the window with a smeared candlelight reflection of their distant faces dripping off the rusted pane.
"Yeah, you're probably right", She uttered with a whimpering breath and once again bit down on her lip now turning a deeper and darker shade of rose. Breathless, he stared at her swollen lip and briefly imagined her hips before being seduced back by her sadness and his daring to care.
"Sometimes I think about it. I think about if I died what would happen to the girl I'm with. What things my family and friends would remember. I worry I could die without accomplishing my dreams." She intently listened as he spoke, unable to look him straight. Slouching and curling with hair embracing her face, she kept focused on the napkin below her, continuously folding it with her fingertips. The foggy glass of wine, the foaming beer, the flicker of fire atop melted wax, and the worn out wood where others had intertwined their hands like a puzzle waiting to snap apart were all the distractions she could handle. "But then I realize", he went on "death is probably just a black hole. Nothing. The end. So, there would be no reason or worry, no reason to care because you simply wouldn't be able to."
"Sounds kind of appealing..." She smirked with tears still on the edge of her glistening lid and fearing they'd fall into every part of their surroundings and pulling his head and heart into her crooked mind. "Getting rid of all your worries, all you care about... It sounds kind of appealing"she said.

IS

Is a suitcase of belongings longing for a place on your shelf on the road to happiness not enjoying the happiness that is the trip, tripping on my feet are numb, tingling senses, lack of direction directed into oblivion and black lights breaking the sun out of day into night. Run run run run to nothing from something you cared about.
Is talking in your sleep...
Is another broken to be broken...
Is waiting for the savannah starlight to come pick her up...
Is in the darkness of my night and in the brightness of my day...
Is a dancing queen, machine, fiend...
Is always last call in a nowhere town...
Is a heart shaped china dolls face, sad eyes, crooked lies to match her nose, her cheekbones...
Is beautiful and ugly and charmed...

Sink

We die until the day we're born again into open bloodied heart, mixed up broken part, loveless and lurking after muddied art. You paint me puddles in the ground with your lips your tongue your sounds. Sinking over and over and over again. Sinking over and over again. A kitchen sink, nothing to drink. Dry and try and oh my oh my. Dry and try. Dying day in and out day in and out, in and out. Day in. Day out until we're born again into open bloodied heart, mixed up broken part, loveless and lurking after muddied art.