nothing like it

Face yourself in a blackout mirror
weíre not here anymore
dreaming in the heavy drugs of unnecessary surgery

I donít have the time and you donít have the heart
happiness overshadowed by the whimsy of a right hand man
that always leads us to the bloodied pavement
for another round of passions gone wrong

Tell me who you think I am
and Iíll tell you again, youíre wrong

Thereís a needle in your arm like afterbirth resurrection
Iím not Jesus, and youíre not dead
but weíll play pretend for the sake of egg shells cracking
beneath steal capped boots
your fingers in my hair is always better than a handful of bones
purpling up my face

Letís drink to the paranoia
and the demons in the walls
a rare steak seduction in musty architecture
leading us straight into temptations line of light
to be snorted like silver dust off a decrepit windowsill

Face yourself in a blackout mirror
weíre not here anymore
Ďcause youíve got all the answers
lined up and pinned to the back of your eyelids
hoarded from the inside of a box of last centuries fortune cookies

And Iíll tell you again
you donít know who I am
my back against the wall, my pores open to the crumbling plaster
as though they can fill me up to be cracked
under the pressure of your ego

Lost in the liquid gold and green out hazes
of overdoing the self-drugged surgery
in search of dead enlightenment
I can forget these chemical affairs arenít love
or anything like it
and neither are you
with a needle in your arm
and blood on my face

© Indie Adams 2013
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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AscensionES Girlintheshadows
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