squinting through the condensation on my windshield

brought back memories of february hearts painted on school bus windows

with spindly fingertips, now callused from a guitar that played me

shitty riffs. I don't remember when I grew so fond of black hearts that devoured me

and spit me out like radiation, but music always made me forget.

so I turned up the volume and let my foot cave under the pressure,

taking me off into the night sky