I lose everything in the end, br when the lights are turned out and my tongue dries. br Hanging by the skin of my teeth, br I can’t hold onto the rope that twists above the quicksand br any longer and so I cross my fingers like hangnails, br as I fall from the grace of your most loving grasp. br Succumbing to the fatal flaws of my weakening humanity br for whatever reason I don't resist sinking below the surface muck br and into my own personally autographed glossy eight by ten br of my perfected and patented death mask, br which is suitable for framing… br br I lose everything in the end, br when the rain beats the hell out of the thatched roof above my head, br overflowing the gutter spouts and drowning my dreams in flash floods br down a cooked duck’s back… br My tongue dries, becoming thick with clichés and innuendos br every time I try to explain how I expected the loss br Because in the end, when it really counts br and because nothing wants to die....