Neon Dreams
You and me in the back alley of the future.
World's melting in my hands,
Fading into blinding flashes of neon signs
And the overwhelming stench of street food,
Cigarettes, chemicals, and paid skin.
Cheap leather. Sweat. Alcohol.
Energy drinks and pot.
I'm swimming in pink and blue.
/
Doesn't need to make sense.
The stimulus doesn't matter,
Not like the shivers it leaves in the wake
Of all those sweet flavors rocketing down my throat.
I need the smoke of the freshly burnt something or other
That wafts down the arteries of this city.
White addiction flows across my tongue, a poison river.
/
I'm hungry for another round,
Another salty pulse from the city
To remind me I'm chained to broken asphalt.
I need more and more and more
Of your boots leaning on my neck,
Keeping me pressed to puddles and potholes
While you pump toxins into my veins.
/
It's good to be underfoot.
Stepped on, scraped across, and covered in filth
With eyes glazed over and high
Up in the sky, focused on those neon lights above your head.
Breath puffs into cold alley air,
Condensing into steam clouds as you press down
On my throttle to hear my engine whine.
/
Lips ready to beg split into open wounds.
Something wet splatters beside the iron.
Black dilates. Devours the remaining blue.
A tongue, my tongue, unfurls from my mouth
To catch the raindrops
Descending from the black sky littered with neon ghosts,
To swallow what you'll give me.
/
It's involuntary, cowing to your will.
I like getting lost in the clouds and smoke and purple haze,
Enjoy the broken pleas bleeding on my lips and how you make
Snot and drool dribble down my face,
Puddle in already soiled streets.
Scrabbling fingers do nothing but leave pretty marks
For tomorrow's art show.
/
Not surprising that I kneel at your feet.
The drink you give is full of lightning and sweet.
You feed me so freely, so well, until I'm bloated
With pleasure and neon dreams.
I'd roll on my back and succumb to your chains
To drag my tongue through that nectar again.
To taste your sweat and tears and spit.
/
Weave yourself into my empty spaces,
Crush my ribcage and make me shake.
Bind my wrists, string me up, and make me wait,
But promise me that the end will come.
Vow on lips smeared with my blood,
Curl your fingers into mine and swear
That the rumbling in my core will be satisfied.
/
The whisper of your word skims across my collarbones
With messy lipstick and teeth and a scream to
Bruise me. Mark me!
Paint me in blue hues and purple splotches.
Make me pretty underneath these neon lights.
Force envy and guilt on me tomorrow
So that I'll crawl back to this filthy place and beg again.
/
Give it to me!
Out of turn, disobedient, the burning want rises
Like a plague and I need a priest, a demigod, a deity, you
To put me in place.
Chain me to the crumbling bricks walls and punish my sins
But let me feast. Let me eat. Let me devour what you'll give.
Feed me!
/
The hunger fuzzes in my mind like the fog of a bad trip,
Puffs in little clouds around my frayed reasoning.
Hesitation sat in my chest once
But I threw it away in favor of this warped pleasure.
The pool of shame curls my toes and my screams
Float on steam to the tops of these looming buildings,
To open windows and curious ears.
/
I am a spectacle, writhing under your boot
Crying out and seeking and begging
For something never found only given.
It's a riddle, a riddle, a riddle
That my chewed-up, coral brain cannot comprehend.
The asphalt is wet with cold
And I am blissfully sticky and warm, summer against winter.
/
"Submit. Yield."
The words slip past the crimson shadows of the ropes
Wrapped around my wrists, ankles, throat.
"Of course."
I am malleable in the hands of my shadow,
Pliant enough for a thumb to be forced between my teeth
To scratch the itch in my soul.
/
A halo of purple and red surrounds you
And the neon dream explodes.
It crackles in my ears and ruptures blood vessels in my eyes
As I scream and cry and descend
Into blissful black nothingness
With only the press of that dirty sole against my neck
To remind me the neon dream was real.
/
Silver Serpent Books
Nathalie Daux
/
Thank you for reading. Every like and comment means the world to me, hope you enjoyed this very long, very strange poem. I sure did.
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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Comments (1)
I like the unique perspective on this and the way it relates to the colors and imagery. The hero walking confidently out of the dark city alley is common, but what of the one who lives there? It's very interesting to have a look from the side of someone who loathes, and loves, and is dependent on the power keeping them chained to filth.