Maybe I have run out of words to offer you.
Maybe the sack of sacrifice in my chest
Has finally scraped the last off the bottom.
Maybe there aren't any poetics left to wax.
.
Maybe this is the eternal torture of the bleeding soul.
The kind of thing I earned between crass writings
And words that carved gruesome scenes
Across the empty plains of innocent minds.
.
Maybe I deserved this sputtering out of gas.
Maybe I touched on something that was touch-starved and ugly,
Hungry for an obsessive eye to suck on and spit out,
Maybe squelch between its teeth.
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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