HOME IS WHERE THE BUGS ARE ! ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ

patterns

all of a sudden you know two people who have gotten killed by trains,
which is somehow not unexpected.

it's like this place begs for blood,
mama hugs you and whispers in your ear and tells you not to play chicken on the tracks and to never once think you're invincible, if you do you sign your death note.

mama hugs you and curses the freight line to the west,
and suddenly you realize that if you ever want to live you have to leave this place, there's no way around it.

all of a sudden everyone's a martyr and you think that teenage boys should know better but aren't surprised when they don't.

when you dream it's you in the lights and you could run but you don't.

when you dream it you're invincible and screaming.

you're tying together flowers the way you did before, going to the depot and praying.

you have to get out of this town.

there's a reason you don't go out at night,
bad things happen in the suburban streets.

it's like we're drinking the world raw,
and we never learned how to stop.

we were never taught to know when enough was enough.

you think they should stop the trains, you want to get off.

you missed your stop.

there's no way to leave this cycle.
  write another prayer card.