what will you do
when the water runs out
and your mouth is drier
than the dirt

drier than the words that slithered
and spat themselves out of your mouth

what will you do
when the food runs out
and your stomach begins to
digest itself

but i can't digest your words
and they stick to the dry walls
of my insides
but if i *****
i will have no food left

what will you do
when the air runs out
and your lungs are squeezing
the oxygen out of your
own cells

your words have squeezed
the life out of mine
even though
there was plenty of air
to share

what will i do?
i hope they run out,
and **** your words,
and-

unfortunately you can't
**** something that was dead to me
the night you said those words.