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 еver write shoots down your speakеrs
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