Cancer By the Mouthful

 

Inevitably infectious,

oozing down the cerebellum,

leaking past the pink tissue

and pooling around the stem.

 

If wings could only speak.

Oh, if tales could only fly.

If nothing ever happened,

we'd be long gone by now,

sipping needles by the city as

the water seeps into the ocean floor.

 

So tip that glass and

drink it down or

drop it to the ground

cause either way it's the last

you'll ever have.

 

You won't need it

where you're going.