Negotiable technotronic suicide

Dancing to the beat, and hoping for the end of us

 

She wears blood like lipstick

as they decompose

in their world,

falling apart

one piece at a time.

 

The technotronic noise

rustles

flows

around them

and they like to pretend

the next song will save them,

the results negotiable

at least they think.

 

The taste of

peach and strawberry daiquiris

washes away the taste of each other lips

alcohol numbs

and the fruit sweetens the bitterness.

 

A multi-tragic suicide

mediated between them

screaming for another encore

but negotiable wasn’t good enough

tonight