The Last Song I Ever Wrote

I remember you smoking heroin out the tin foil

‪2 AM on a Tuesday night‬

You said “Oh god, I must be trapped

In the first verse of the last song you’ll ever write”

Kurt Cobain Hologram

Blew his brains out on the bandstand

“Code was perfect” lawyers said

“Tribes in Peru eat their own dead.”

Some songs are time machines

Play the secret chord

Dust the ouija board

Feed me codeine

We’re just high teens in swimsuits

Proustian Pall Malls paint the past like bowls of fruit

The last song that I’ll ever write shoots down your speakers

And whispers

Grandpa grabbed my knee staring a hole through that old TV

His Bensonhurst Bride stuttering d-d-down a stoop

Did you hear about the time the kid who survived Columbine

Hung himself with a Blink 182 song on loop

Ghosts are tied to hard drives

Like birthday cakes and kitchen knives

I’ve tried my best monetize all the pain

The psych wards and past lives

Some nights cut you up like a shiv

Some days the light just lingers on the ledge

Begging you to live

Some songs are telephones

We can still talk Charlie after I’ve disappeared

The last song that I’ll ever writes scrawled above the shitter

In a gas station stall

Calling out to no one

I was here

You stepped out the portal and fell into my arms