Taking a sledgehammer to a mirror for reflections come without image & “Just one of u is enough,” they say. Shards of glass now ready, to bleed the pain away. It would be so easy to take the aura of what makes a heart beat, sweet dreams. She was a sorry sight, black tears of mascara bleed from her eyes & stain skin. Wallowing on the edge, on the edge of her apartment complex, in a nightgown to blend with a fall to nothing, & a funeral that would end everything. He was high and planned on hell, a teenage dropout with a syringe. Laying ready in a bathtub, sick of bathing in his own depression, with a half empty bottle of vodka perched to his side, & a handful of aspirin to relieve the pain. Tastes that can’t be ignored & soon an idea will be a reality, u will swim in the sea of the undead not welcomed on any level, sweet dreams.