gods of youth

We lived hard and died young
believed the Gods when they whispered
that only the young can leave a pretty corpse
our veins exploding with hipster idealism
that our cool was better than your cool
because less people loved us

We ran from the fallen magic
that tried to wrap itself around our lonely bones
past the painted fetish boys draped in fur
catcalling us from the caged street windows
reflected green in their nowhere eyes

And we knew their glazed gaze and suspended stockings
we knew the rush of shedding our skins for nondescript publicity
because nothing matters when no one knows your name
and everyone thinks you’re beautiful when they’re drunk

Studios of art spilled out onto the pavement
cursing the air for its never ending breath
and perpetual decay
of all things ephemeral
despair as tangible as tomorrow’s hangover
with the knowledge that nothing lasts forever

We lived hard and died young
believed the Gods when they whispered
we’d live beyond the darkness of death
though I’ve yet to meet a God
who’s still alive

© Indie Adams 2014