All fair things are rotten inside
Infused grey bits of debris collide
Graceful wings waltz, their charm has ended
Into a wreckage of all things splendid

I've consumed all of your dark matter
Studying every piece of phantom amber  
In those remnants, I feel a hush
Like echoes from a decanter's rush

At times I do not trust my mind
My thoughts are often mixed with wine
I wonder: "what if I die?"
You tell me: "what if you don't."