It feels like the kind of mania
That ripped the shackles off
The wrists and ankles of some
Old character I forgot about.
Someone I put on the back shelf.
.
The rear burner is on fire.
.
Does that mean that I'll know how
To dance and sing and laugh or
Is that something that belongs
To the back burners too?
Fucking hell, I just want dinner.
.
Cook something up for me.
.
Turn me into a melted puddle
Of every creative dream I've had
And lick up whatever remains.
Transform me into something
Worthwhile in your stomach.
.
Shit me out in the morning.
.
And say goodbye the things
That could have been me but
Never managed to break through
The glass ceiling around your blood.
Worship the newness inside you.
.
I am a part of your flesh.
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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