We don’t talk anymore because you say I don’t sound like myself on the phone. Is it bad that I can’t tell which feels worse?
If the cigarettes don’t cloud your lungs and rot your teeth, and the drugs don't eat your heart and slur your speech, if you make it home tonight without killing anyone else, I hope you find a way to hurt yourself.
At least when you’re too drunk to drive and trying to leave I know you’re not coming home to me. But I wonder what I’ll feel when I see your name on TV, I wonder which of us will feel more relieved?
Are you choking back broken glass? Because I’m chugging gasoline. Guilt is all that stops you from leaving completely, but the engine’s on fire and I’m stuck inside. I said I was fine and I lied.