The first sign, you say, is washing our mouths
How they dirty with sugar and old age just for laughs
Also, how we turn everything into piss
How your intestines won’t save leftovers
Due largely to previous mistreatment of the body
But we are not aging again
So let’s drink a little stupor for our selves and spill on the carpet
Mounds of wet, not meant to worry us now, but later
Then, then! We will share our space with decomposition
The walls brown and rotting through, wind spitting in breaths
And maybe we will breathe again
But while breathing, we will realize our health has toppled;
A recent downturn leading to a turning of stomach fluids
Cracked kneecaps not walking us to resolution
Muscles torn as with teeth and coffee barely tinged black
Made us plant trees in bedrooms because the protozoa
Swimming here have rotted the air
But the sun never saw the windows on this side of the house
So the trees became part of the bed
The bark beginning to feel like your skin
Let’s dismember our disjointed selves for dinner
I know you forgot about me while at the grocery store
I know you forgot among the unraveling of your brain
And if not, can I breath on you, and for a long period of time?
Then can you tell me where the rotting is coming from?
Point to the organ and I’ll expel it from its place
Or else we can leave, hustle back to our respective cities
And remember or not that we shared each other’s air
Until we feel like green bologna, the refrigerator switched off.