vices re-emerge in conversation

I thought it was funny until I realized it was an inside joke 

God must martyr the murdered 

No?

He’ll only cherish the saints 

Each morning they lay the ground, booby trapped in black ice 

Your friend’s a bad driver 

And Hitting 95 on a back road is the closest I’ll ever be to flying

I never want it to get to the point where you wait downstairs for me to fall asleep-

I never sleep unless u do 

I always wake up before u

And I woke up once thinking I loved u

Excuses are cheap as my wrongdoings become currency 

And I’ll slaughter any truth before I end up paying

I’ll ask again- are your thoughts pictureless?

Do they run in circles as words?

Have I tripped somehow? Fallen behind grace?

Every time i come here i can feel my throat swell as my vices re-emerge in conversation

my conscious mind an Afghan carpet shredded by my disregarding unconscious

My mouth simply a funnel

My thoughts kick off

My heart loses beats 

And I won’t accept your shot in case I die a martyr 

A nuisance on i95

Your friend’s a bad driver 

And Hitting 95 on a back road is the closest I’ll ever be to flying