to be fair, we were on borrowed time to begin with
i feel the static in my jaw and the way your contact information felt like i was running out of phone calls
am i the object or am i the permanence ?
am i the other shoe waiting to drop or are we the burning building?

if you start to feel your feelings, don’t

something about waxing poetic about a playlist restarting at the beginning as i drive by your house (again)
“And i thought that i would miss it while still wishing that i didn't”
a bag of someone else’s clothes in my backseat
a mindset that i wish i wasn’t still holding out for a “want to take the train again? for old times sake? come home, babe, it’s time we take that hatchet and throw it in the schuylkill”
a no longer flickering light near the cemetery
i can still see myself teetering on that edge, reaching for a short term hand
i don’t know what to do with this
i’m the only one that still drives home

closing my eyes so i can think of a time when grade school assignments seemed attachment worthy and the jar of 222 reasons meant hope and a future and reassurance and god i never even made it halfway through the scraps of paper
111 was always a shortcut
i guess i should’ve known that you had an emergency exit, huh
is it weird that your girlfriend shares your moms name?
do you ever walk by that museum with her; you know the one where you said you wanted kids?

to think i’ve convinced myself that this life is anything less than an empty white room without you is beyond reason
with bug spray scented skin and alcohol on my breath
lately my mouth has been spilling over with apologies

as this gemini season crescendos to a screeching dissonant halt, i am unsure if i am going to be able to live with the events that i didn’t entirely force to transpire
when my mouth fills with blood i am unable to tell if the source is from my wounds or yours

i guess i’ll vape about it
shake about it
crawl on my hands and knees down the stairs, hold my breath about it

i can hear an engine up to a mile and a half away because you evolve to have supersonic hearing when 60 seconds will make all the difference

let’s write some more songs about a self-fulfilling prophecy
but maybe things will be different if we learned to hear the subtext
imagine an okay but tattooed by the mile
scrawling my gods on 4 walls that get closer together by the hour
shift the focus and
for now it’s enough

i confess i’m a mess but only in the sense that my problems are future tense
i can hear the door knobs rolling down the hall but honeyface, sweetie, grass biscuit
i think i’m unshakeable now