We are broken promises and pretty pink petals that can't survive the winter.
We are everything we swore we'd never be-
smoke clouds, and broken bones and bleeding knuckles, paint cans in vans in warehouses in city hearts, back street backbones and the blood that pumps through the concrete veins of this bloodthirsty beast- we are gods.
We are the Kings and the Queens of all those who don't know how to trust, who put their love into drugs as their lives start to rust we are the Lords above that they pray too as late November rains destroy all that's brand new
We made the wrong choice one too many times and now they worship us the way the sick and tired worshiped God as their families around them died over and over and over again.
Mother said that shooting stars were just angels throwing away their cigarettes before God caught them smoking. She said rainbows were just what happened when light shattered tears and icicles existed as weapons of cold hearted.
She said she didn't believe in second chances and that music was the only way for souls to scream without being heard.
She said Heaven didn't exist but everyone went to Hell.
Everyone went to Hell, she said, every time they woke up and every time they fell asleep and every time they bought a coffee or a pair of shoes or picked some flowers. Every time they took a breath- the sharpness of cold air was a way to punish the existing.
Mother said I better not become a God, for to sit upon a pedestal only means I’ll have farther to fall (and of course I will fall). I better not become a god, you don't want to be worshiped by those who hit rock bottom only to discover that they ran out of second chances eighteen cigarette packs and thirteen used up needles and seventeen bed frames ago.
I forgot how to feel today
It was screaming running crying on pavement on grass on broken glass. It was hollow eyes and smoke clouds and damp streets and alleys and fire escapes. It was head back and no clouds in the sky but it might as well be overcast because I can't feel a damn thing.
I forgot who I was today.
I am hurricane winds and poisonous fangs that had to be reminded that she can't touch anyone without hurting everyone. I am a time bomb set to negative ten and a pencil insult traced over in pen. I am everything you hate and everything you need. Everything I swore I’d never be.
I forgot how to breathe today.
When rainbows split skies, and danced like butterflies in the clouds, and you said you didn't believe in miracles, or me. You said we were the best damn actors in the world, we deserve an award for lasting this long. I forgot how to breathe when you said shooting stars didn't exist.
My mother told me they were cigarettes, thrown down by angels.
And you told me angels don't exist as angels, they are just devils pretending to be angels, covering their horn with paper halos.
To be immortal is to be a god
And to be a god is the loneliest achievement of them all
To be a god just means you have farther to fall
