Cathedral eyes haunt my dreams
Spilling red light through the gaps
Wounding the structural beams
Already splintered by this weight,
This endless stellar cloud of change.
Exhaustion ripples inside of me like
Some distant cousin of old decay.
The termites are cozy inside my soul.
.
Maybe Van Gogh wasn't mad when he
Took the knife into his hands just...
Overstimulated by the building decay,
The dust of his soul piling at his feet.
Maybe he wanted the sound to stop
And maybe there was no snow for him
To tunnel beneath and hide away
From all those sounds of internal rot.
.
Fear follows the summer heat.
Patience burns and broils in August.
Winter aches in the bones of fools,
Yet blossoms like the stars at night
In the minds of the poets who crave
Some respite from the munching ants
Peeling them apart strip by strip.
Bury me like the wildflower then.
Give me a moment of bleak silence.
Freeze me beneath the soil.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Writer of the dark! Think of it like flipping rocks, the weird little stories underneath are my jam and jelly. Jam and butter? Just jam. Absolutely no use of AI in any of my works :)
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.