Dried Mouths - by PseuDil.

There’s a reason for all these idiosyncrasies and
rhythm that we build upon, then hide, as if in a
deafening journey into nowhere
in particular.
I’m sure you’re tailing the best people
you know; I’ll follow my personal track and risk
this death, or another injured commission.
Tongue on ice, flesh in flame. They are not your ritual
buddies, I have to warn you that.

We’re only dealing with this the
best way we know how, but we don’t know much,
and we don’t ask.
I have my excuse of asphyxiation,
fear and self-loathing, what do you have?
You’re always saying how your mouth runs dry and
those palpitations don’t go unnoticed, but, love,
we don’t pay attention to the cries
for help.
I think you’re just damaged, but not in the
bad way. I think I’m just piteous, and not
in the good way either. See how we’re both running out of
life and excuses?