I rotted something in my brain
When I first tasted dopamine on my tongue.
I rotted the stoic parts of my blood,
Tore down the strong stone walls of my resolve
The first time I felt something fill my veins.
.
Emptiness had followed me around,
Swallowed me since I learned to toddle,
And then it was gone.
Fled from my system like a flock of migrating birds.
They died over the winter and never came back.
.
I am alone.
In this hunger,
In this thirst,
In this impossible desire to dip my hands into the stream of pleasure
And feel something.
.
I feel nothing, nothing, nothing
And then a wonderful spark of everything all at once.
Thirty seconds, two minutes, then five.
And then it is gone again,
Lost to the drowning tide of emptiness inside.
.
Take me away
To a place where my footsteps won't print in the snow
And the mud won't have a chance to suck my boots into the ether.
Take me away to a place where emotions are frequent
And this emptiness never had a chance to be born.
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (4)
Wow Loved it!
This whole poem is achingly raw. And the last stanza carries such a mournful wish that was quite searing. A stunning and staggering poem, Silver.
So deep and beautifully written!
How we crave to feel everything and nothing at all. great poem