I'm sailing on a sea of red, kissing black holes and having conversations with coffee cups. Jotting notes with erasers on napkins and killing idealism with blanks. Lovers like us die slowly, drowning in committment. Stubble above a quivering lip lashing across the table aiming for a heart. But what is "dead" anyway? I'm being smothered by a self-replicating system, voice activated. Black nail polish caressing rotten teeth I'll grind this perfume bottle into your throat and leave you choking on pheromones. Kiss the heroin off my lips, lover. I need you like an amputation.