why do you only call me when you're high?

The phone rings    
and I feel like I'm playing    
Russian Roulette with    
Jekyll and Hyde    
   
to answer or ignore    
to answer or ignore    
to answer or ignore  
   
I answer    
   
And it's all "hey babe  
how you doing    
I miss you"    
and I can pretend    
with total conviction    
that this is the real you    
that this moment in time    
is a slice of reality    
untainted    
   
30 minutes in and I wish    
I hadn't picked up    
the fucking phone    
   
We're playing    
pin-the-tail-on-the-conversation    
and every round brings us    
further from sanity    
and closer to your    
un-spontaneous combustion    
and me being me    
I don't dare cut this meltdown short  
because what kind of friend    
would that make me?  
   
It's 1 am    
and there's enough tears    
on your phone to short circuit    
the wires    
but we're somehow still here    
still doing this    
your phone un-drowned  
   
I drink coffee like it's    
an appropriate life line    
and listen to you cry    
again    
trying to talk you from the ledge    
you always find yourself on    
every time we talk  
   
And I hate how  
you only call me when you're high  
or lonely or suicidal    
or the trifecta of all three  
   
I love you    
but I'm tired    
of this merry-go-round  
to nowhere    
   
I don't need you    
as much as you need me    
   
The phone rings    
and I feel like I'm playing    
Russian Roulette with    
Jekyll and Hyde    
   
My finger hovers    
to answer or ignore...