Adult Boy Problems

In the burnt-out husk of a Salvation Army church.
Judgemental fluorescent crescent high up on its perch.
We egg each other on to go in.
It's pitch-black, there's no hope in seeing.
I trip over and I immediately start bleeding,
and I knew something terrible was coming.
Maybe I'm just powerless or completely unwilling to do anything.

I see it first, looming out from the darkness,
terrible bony visage with designs on the two of us.
I should open my mouth to scream,
but not a single syllable manages to spill from me.
You're staring at my face perplexedly,
while the thing looms behind you ominously.
When I finally manage to speak,
I say, "You deserve an adult, who deals with their problems properly".

Hiding out in the kangaroo grass,
ducking our heads as unaccompanied cars drive past.
Flinging up little bits of bitumen.
High beams are flooding.
Engines endlessly humming, and I knew something terrible was coming.
Maybe I'm just powerless or completely unwilling to do anything.

Who isn't a sucker for a grand recovery?
Fighting fit in the fourth quarter I yell, "I'm free!".
But all my false promises get proven to be
nothing but MIDI fan-fair trumpets and pathetic confetti.

You're sick of being scared,
I'm emotionally ill-equipped, misogynyently unprepared.
You stride out to go and face the beast.
You say it'll have to go through you before it gets to me.
I should be by your side standing stewardly.
But there's something in my bones, my blood that makes me cowardly,
and I barely get away before I hear you scream.
You deserve an adult who deals with their problems properly.
You're gone and dealt with our demons single handedly.