Aftertaste Sometimes I just want to slip into the shadows; To fade from time and space And escape the delicate mundanity Of a world bereft of dreams. When nobody cares to listen, And nobody chances to see, And I think if I walk slowly enough Maybe I'll never get there. Pale-skinned women in black satin March to the beat of the thunder And pay their respects to the dead With scarcely a thought for the living. Plastic. Everything so plastic. Lacking in its reality even a shred Of the contradictory quintessence Which our lives it once endowed. I think I've overstayed my welcome. This place just isn't friendly anymore. Come nightfall I'll be leaving - Lost and gone, and soon forgotten. Brandon Sumner