the peeling paint is just in my imagination

I don’t know this place anymore
the familiar walls can’t contain me
when my head is elsewhere
in another place, in another time
without the safety I’ve fought
so long to preserve

You make me want to drink  
I’m a lit cigarette
that’s just waiting for this time bomb
to run out of minutes and into a bottle
where I can forget the things
no 12 step program
could ever make me face

I know I am better than the sum
of my history
though my bad days would have me
forget just how hard I fought
to stay alive when the demons
whispered better things
on the other side of dying

And now I’m losing myself again
in the way your lies twist through
my descending brain chemistry
back to places where I was grateful
that I was too fucked up for anyone
to notice I wasn’t quite passed out enough
not to hear the way murder rolled off their lips
or the way their hands caressed underage hips

In some worlds love and violence
are the same thing
and I’ve learnt the hard way that loneliness
is better than a hand around my throat
or a body pressed unwanted into mine
telling me it’s all okay
if I just go with it
no matter what I actually want

I don’t know this place anymore
the familiar walls can’t contain me
though today I wish they would

© Indie Adams 2014