locomotion

You're just the latest of stops on my trainwreck of a life 
as I'm barreling down the tracks, going 
eighty, 
ninety, 
ninety five miles per hour 
toward a brick wall,
down a dead end road,
off a cliff. 

I know, inconceivably, how this is gonna end.
With every sin,
we're picking up speed
and it can't possibly last must longer,
and we can't possibly go much farther,
and we can't possibly make it through this without causing a scene,
but damn,
it sure is nice to have some company.

I don't know why you entertain me, though.

Maybe you like watching trainwrecks, too. 

11/10/2020