There was a time
When I lived in aesthetics.
Coffee, sat on a ledge,
Caught under the summer sun
Of a day already growing hot.
Cigarette streaming smoke
Like the coffee's steam.
Infinite.
Everything smelled of incense,
Of sandalwood and sandy breezes.
My bones didn't ache.
There wasn't the grief of living.
The linens were still soft,
Hardly worn and clean
Because the clouds hadn't yet
Settled.
I was barefoot on the tile,
Inverted against beige walls,
Practicing what it would be like
To soar.
The aesthetics couldn't
Hold the line of my sanity.
And now I'm somewhere else.
Somewhere with tree stumps
Sticking out of the ground,
Dirt in the corners of my bedroom,
And a malaise no dream can shake.
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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