[OUT]

I used to enjoy tasting your rotten breath.  Every sickening puff of it was a completely untouchable euphoria.  A transference.  Piggybacking this breath were words... for you never seemed to know when to shut up.

I could never turn you a deaf ear.

You still can't shut up, can you?  Even with all this silence and echoey space.

[IN]

I countered your euphoria with my dysphoria, feigned as it has always been.  It was the only way I could seem to stay near enough to get my own fix, to push my own self forward.  I would have sucked you dry, in more ways than one.  So the walls went up.

You're deaf ear always seemed to be pointed squarely in my direction anyway.

I still can't seem to find the words to begin.  All this echoey space and nothing worth anything bounces off the walls surrounding me.

[OUT]

Willowy and wafting.

[IN]

Gorging and grounded.

[OUT]

And endless yapping noise who carries with it a small slap of that rotten breath.  Every acrid puff absorbed as if it held within it life itself.  I suppose it actually did; breath of life and all that.

[HOLD]

Why is it that my life was the one wrapped inside that breath?

[IN]

Your deathly silence.

[OUT]

Acrimonious laughter.  A dying breath.

[IN]

Your rotten life support.

[OUT]

Strangled hope.

[IN]

Your rotten life support.

[OUT]

Deathly euphoria.

[IN]

Your rotten life support.

[OUT]

Euphoria.

[IN]

Your sweet sweet silence...

[OUT]

My last tear to shed...