Dropped Dog-Ends
A surreal poem about nothing in particular.
I'm losing my fucking mind.
And I love the slick of it against my palm,
Jerking out the last tendrils of pearly sanity,
The righteous dreams of my soul just to feed
The open maw of the black abyss.
.
It's cigarette smoke that pours out but I wish
It was something stronger,
Something I could catch between my teeth
And roll around in my mouth
Like the marble of the well-spoken rich.
.
I'm losing my fucking mind
But I never had any intent of keeping it.
I wanted to pass it off on cigarette smoke
And wave goodbye as it threw dangerous seeds
Onto the current of your breath.
.
You choke on it anyway, don't you? Lucky.
Shoot me up full of toxic pink fumes
Because I can't choke anymore,
Nothing sets my blood ablaze
The lights have gone dead.
.
I don't float on music and running for my life
Doesn't scratch the surface of the desire.
Give me a shot of adrenaline,
Knock me in the teeth and sweep my feet.
Knock me out.
.
I'm losing my fucking mind and the stars,
The fucking stars have changed.
What sort of blackhole luck do I have
To be on the blade-thin precipice of satisfaction
And fall the wrong way?
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
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The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwina day ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Hell FIYAH Silver Serpent Books! This is 'out-the-box-levels' incredible! I can't wait to read it again slow and savour each line. Pure genius!
D.J. took the words out of my mouth and said them far better! A brilliant line in a raw and jarring piece!
"Blackhole luck" is a remarkable phrase, and the onanistic futility with which your persona is wrestling stands in stark contrast to the fruitful writing you produced to represent said agon!
This was how I was feeling last night. You have put it in words so eloquently. Loved your poem
This is raw, angry and really well done. "To be on the blade-thin precipice of satisfaction. And fall the wrong way?" So relatable.