The Taste
I suck the juice right out of life, And spit out empty husks. My appetite’s voracious, There never is enough.
I always seek for more and more, My eyes turn yet again; In my greed and neediness, I kill all joy that’s been.
The sweetest fruit will lose its taste, The sweetest passions die; My mouth is full of dust and death— I’ve not even depth to cry.
I swallow down another bite, Life slice by slice, Chocking on the tasteless mix That was my passion’s price.
By Succubus
Riding in your car
Stick your hand into the wind Grasp the wind Feel the wind Cup the air in your hand and feel the molecules Pounding into your palm So tangible and real You've almost got it You can practically see it. Right in your hand. Try your very hardest to grab hold of the air. It's right there, dammit.
But regardless your effort It slips elusively through your grasp No matter how badly you want it. You know the taste, but you'll never have a swallow. You feel just enough to know you'll never really have it. And so too your happiness Your luck Opportunities Years And your life.
