They say home is where the brain committed suicide* first
Hushed conversation overheard
Flushed worth down the drain
And as it spun
The dark corners never seemed so inviting
Enticing how the pain makes you notice yourself when no one else does
Reality is a setback that you've sat through and kept mum about
Contemplating the things that are all in your head more than things that actually are
You've already done it a thousand times
And accepted the indifference growing like vines that intertwine in your mind
Now your thumb is out and you're looking for a ride
Not any particular place, just "away"
Toward somewhere not quite like this

*You use a tied rope as a taxi cab