Chance

Im slipping the grip

the grip of light lips

that slip and tip and beg to be heard.

but what's more absurd?

than to sit in a box

carve our words in the chalk

and numbly curse in the void of our mind.

I dont feel too strange.

For i see it in you

and ive noticed the truth

you tantalize words that balance aloof

and tangle in the web you feel you should spin.

The web we're all in.

what's left of the tongue

that thrives with the young

that shrivels with every passing glance.

we have yet one more chance

for each day we advance,

is a step in the mouth of the dirt.

and it shouldnt hurt,

for we all stand on our grave

and each day we decay

let's live and behave like we're sinking.