Waltz with me

Comfort ends, prying the dream from the warm embalmed fingers that waver in the dark.

The bottom rotted away as the free fall expands into a second season.

Live streams, and t-shirts are on sale.

The river runs dry as the damp colors of bled dreams bubbles from the heat reality bakes into thin air.

Thinner in the mirror as the routine grows cold.

The taste in the lifeless mouth scrapes fifty shades of glue.

Hearts dry up as the well collapses whole.

These days were better days sail out on the horizon are nothing more than landlocked blues.

The muster fizzles to one last groan as air leaves the throat.

Still the race goes on.

Flames call out names.

Shame on display.

Mountain tops tower on high, and the bottoms out of commission.

A life for a glass.

A life for a drink.

A life for comfort.

The days grow into weak weeks.

Water the children.

Sell them for time.

Either way I am left here dead on the floor.

Right where you left me.

Can't wait to see the butterflies you give yourself this time.