shadow glass black lights

There is nothing on offer here  
the lights are just for show  
I bleed nicotine  
between cracked and bloody fingertips  
exhaling dreams into the cosmos  
in a silent prayer to no one  
 
You breathe warm words  
through a symphony of beats  
that make the sky look whole again  
among the blinking stars  
and shadow of moon on clouds  
 
I’ve got a beach driven drug hunger  
your hands lost in the powder of the rich  
eyes wide awake, unblinking  
in the epileptic rhythm of lights  
that keep you up for days  
 
I miss my wild soul  
that shed skin for money  
and clothes for fun  
mirrors on the walls  
reflecting a tapestry of lies  
I would have died to believe in  
if Death was a bitch worth dying for  
 
There’s a needle pressed to my skin  
and a promise in your eyes  
that whispers an apocalypse  
if I just let go  
just give in  
 
I’m all hands and bruised skin  
pulling away from these anaesthesia dreams  
wishing I had the courage  
to fuck myself up like a piece of art  
you’ll forget in the morning  
 
There is nothing on offer here  
the lights are just for show  
I bleed nicotine  
between cracked and broken fingertips  
exhaling dreams into the cosmos  
in a silent prayer to no one  
 
I don’t belong here  
 
© Indie Adams 2015