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You Die to All that Matters
A sickening feeling jolts in my middle when you speak to me.
And, ha, not even in person or on the phone.
Here you are, messaging me, priding yourself
In your triumph of a victory that you got a car permit.
Well, congrats, my friend.
Guess it’s time to drive off and get your mind off yourself.
Just crank up the music to whatever you want.
No one else is listening.
You’re inviting me to, what? A road trip to Canada?
Ha. Of course, your dream place,
With a girl who once gave you a heck of a lot,
Making excuses for your revolting self-adoration.
It’s over, buddy.
Get another passenger who will listen and affirm you.
You’re probably wondering why I’m thinking of you in this way,
But you’re letting your words and questions get soggy.
I don’t applaud you for your permit ‘cause you’ve had one all along,
The one you’ve given to yourself to leave me when you want,
And come back, expecting me to listen and respond as a fast food drive-thru.
You’ve completely forgotten about me, us.
You’re probably reading this because you are vain,
So know that I am strong and will not fall to pick you up.
There’s no shame in honesty, at least for me,
But I can’t stop you from dying to all that matters.