It was one of those nights
You know
The kind of night where you and your friends are fated to dive off of the nearest cliff
A night where your empty bottle is just one grave example of the spaces you can’t fill
In your bed
Your closet
Your fridge
Your piano keys
Your heart
Where paper cuts replace the sound of your name
And you wake up sweaty
Covered in American sadness
The knowledge that you have all that you need
And your greedy soul feeds and feeds
Screaming that happy is never enough

Look through the nearest x-ray
You will see
Your brain stem is the steepest climb of a roller coaster
And the remaining track is where you lose yourself