divinity's a pipe dream and I'm tired of smoking

What are we still doing here, darlin’?
We’re broken and we know it
I’m tired of picking up the pieces
of your afterbirth like they’re art

I can’t fix you
I can’t save you
I’m no angel

Didn’t anyone ever tell you
divinity isn’t just a passive wall
graffitied with the shit of our lives
it’s not face-gutter-smashed
blood and bone on the pavement
full of promises that can’t be fulfilled
because it was too busy taking a beating

Divinity is not like me

I’m just trying to get through each year
without checking out on a suicide ride
and that slipstream pulls at me harder
than you’ll ever know
because we don’t talk about my death
I’ve got too much to live for

I can’t help the impulse to destroy
this tiny little life I’ve built
the matchsticks are flammable
and I’m flicking the lighter under the bed sheets
wondering how long they’ll take to catch alight
while you’re telling me to get the fuck up
and let the fire go
‘cause I’ll never look good with third degree burns
never mind that you’re walking around
doused in lighter fluid
daring someone, anyone to torch you
like a bonfire fantasy

What are we still doing here, darlin’?
We’re broken and we know it
can we stop pretending now
or is that just part of this game
of Russian roulette for the soul?

No, I’m no angel
and this isn’t what divinity looks like
though it’s funny how I could have sworn once
that you were an angel come to save me

Pity then
that I’m still bleeding on the floor

© Indie Adams 2014