Downstream Thoughts
A poem about being too connected
The phone is a bomb in my hand,
A portal all the connections I never
Wanted to make in the first place.
I wanted to live in a creek bed, you know.
Tucked away like a salamander only to
Pitter-patter through the shallow water
And turn my eyes up to the full moon.
Nothing good buzzes like that,
On/off, on/off, on/off.
Alive out of nowhere. Then Dead.
I wanted the creek to be filled with cool,
Crystalline water and I'm even okay
If there's little gemstones of glass
Buried in the rocks.
Glass cuts open my palm with images.
Pretty little pictures of pretty lives.
Songs for problems I don't have.
The glass would turn into river glass
While the Water munched on my bones.
The moon, the moon, the moon, the moon
Would sing me lullabies until I floated...
Downstream.
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
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