It’s pretty late
You’re standing across the room, talking to someone or something but I’m just here
These are your friends after all
But you look sad, like me
Like usual
Someone’s pouring me a drink and
I‘ve got that ichy feeling you get when you shouldn’t smoke your last cigarette
But you know you will
They say something to me and laugh
I’m sandwiched between a fantasy and crushing reality
like beautiful ideas that become shit when you write them down on paper
My feet are shaking, ready to move (anywhere)
I am the inches of terrible terrible air
Between the fruit on the tree and your fingertips
(you, tied to the ground, like me)
You can shout all you like, Tantalus
I know you
You’re just like me
We’ll never get anywhere
We’re frozen assets
We’re “get well soon” cards given out in the fucking cancer ward
We’re racecars stuck in the mud
But what do I know?
Why are we even here?
Do we have anywhere else to go?
I know it’s late
2:45 in the morning and raining
But I’ve got a third a tank of gas
and you’ve got that look in your eye
let’s get the fuck out of here.