it whispers playful musings
it sings songs--
like an old friend--
it sings songs
it muses about the end

it is the dilemma in knowing
that the drink which leaves you
frothing at the mouth
bleeding out the eyes
tastes like the best worst thing
tastes like the most saccharine--

it is the agony in knowing
that to drink it once means
to leave something unsaid
to leave the door open
and the gas on
to leave the static buzzing
and a baby crying
and the faucet running
and someone wondering--