EATEN are times of shallow graves and mindless parades,
Our pillows lull us adrift while we DIGEST on our beds.
We REGURGITATE the webs of spider’s ghosts and lonely candles,
as the morning CHEWS night into day.
As DROOL is trickled from the mouths of the displaced,
We still carry our blue-ribbon prints like souvenirs of SPIT.
Our hearts are SIPPED at like goblets spilling lust,
While yesterday is dissolved, we’ll be SWALLOWING tomorrow.
Innocence is crushed as bubbles turn to FOAM,
As doubt is sheltered, sorrow lies GUSHING white.
The constant drone of a bathroom tap leaves us with nothing but DRIP, DRIP, DRIP.