I am driving abandoned roads, in winter cold.
Past my windshield, it's quiet, but rock n' roll banter shrieks, lulling me into exhausted angst.
Intersections away, tucked behind closed doors, her mind is farther than I can drive
She's been cutting herself for a year now-everywhere-walking tightropes from relapse to recovery
The sky is crying stars, I know her shades are drawn.
She cries hatred of weakness, following road maps on her stomach.
I feel screeching rubber kiss the pavement, unaware down the street, metals kissing inner thighs.
She doesn't see me crashing into the guardrail by her neighbor's house, preoccupied with the blade
From too acceleration, black icy hearts, the turning of steering wheels-
We run out of cliff-hanging tightropes
And we are driven into indifferent darkness
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