dust and the damsel

the delight you see in your eyes, is the nemesis like popsicles on sticks. you see, the room gets bigger with each hour of absence. how do i explain this? the dust is collecting on every untouched furniture and soon, the movies won't be playable. it's the same dejavu feeling. like the knife that cuts deep should cut deep now. i can hear the rumble and the ticking of machines keeping this life source chugging like an old overworked train. i feel like shouting because they fall on deaf ears. how can i not let my emotions get the better of me? when you're not around, the emptiness amplifies. will you start this odd year again, with my mouth gagged when the people ask and seek? will my loneliness drive me to this death floor? for i am convinced more than what you are trying to undo, that i am not wanted. that it doesn't matter. that the magic cards you easily parted with, is the way you would flush me down this pipe so we can drown out this inconvenient emotional wreck, so you can sail into the sunset. like i said, different shovel, same shit. will i bite the dust tonight?