the rules of the game are simple
keep the dust from collecting and keep your hands out of your hair
keep the sink empty
god i have got to get out of my house
i’m going to eat the concrete from the streets and scrape my knees so they have something to talk about

no one comes home anymore because these streets don’t carry the same weight that we used to
i drive by houses
because i don’t know who i am without some sort of substance in my system and i don’t know what to do once the final laugh of the night dies in the way only an intoxicated joke can

i think i’m spinning out again and i’m glad i got too drunk to drive when i heard you were at a party 26 miles away

moth dust covered fingers reminding me of a summer i hate and love remembering

i hope you swipe right until your fingers fall off

i’m taking the light from the street lights and chasing a sunrise to get back to where i was meant to go

i should have let them block your number because a bittersweet self-concluding end would have been honey and sweet dreams compared to the ***** and panic attacks that i have started with this saturday morning
try and keep my name out of your mouth because my ears can’t handle the deafening ringing
catch me driving 90 on the highway waiting for my ribs to crack

a million words i could have texted you after almost 2 years of a deafening silence and all i could think to say was “**** i would like to see my black lipstick on your **** one last time”

4 years ago today i was riding the high of a first kiss 3 months in the making
we fell in love amidst curfews and open doors and a tendency to semi-slow dance between half truths and part lies

old obsessive habits are beginning to unearth themselves and it takes all of me not to scream at the moon or the sun for cursing me  
i didn't know it was possible to feel this way since him but i am already planning living room layouts and vacations and trying to guess your phone password and wondering if your old "roommate" you are still friends with ever took up the spot on your mattress that i now rest in one night a week
i'm worried if we change it to 2 nights a week you'll get tired of me faster

the thing is: i am never not worried and i can't figure out what that says about us or you or me

i haven't written since february because the noise keeps getting louder and it has gotten harder to pick the words out of the static
not that i would ever blame you, obvously