Jungle Decay
A little surreal nature poetry for a Monday.
The dream of the jungle swallows me.
It carves cruel, curling calligraphy into my bones
Until the density of me
Decreases into nothing more than dust in the blood.
I decay.
Crinkle around the edges, brown, and fall to the floor
To be stepped on by some old shoe, soles peeling away.
.
I hunger for the mist,
The fog rolling off the mountains and into my soul.
I crave the nourishment of decomposing rats
And the little, shelled dreams of bugs
That once tried to devour me.
The subject shifts.
The categories change.
.
I am content to be this way,
Content to be
The shadow of a starling flashing in the periphery.
The jungle is here,
Screaming around me and yanking life from the grass,
Swallowing whole.
Decaying, dreaming, dying.
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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