Your insidious words ringing in my ears, day after day, plaguing me at all hours. Inescapable droning tinnitus, that leaves me clawing at the wretched pealing holes in my head. The laughing, always the laughing as I cry. Wailing in abject misery and terrific pain, and crawling on my knees, begging for release from your sadistic games and legalistic contracts.
You kick and swat at me, screaming obscenities. The blows raining down seem somehow unreal, until I'm struck to the ground. After an eternity has flashed before my eyes, I arise from my checked-out state of denial—life in utter shambles, debris and collateral damage, smoking all around me.
Ethereal talons creep and grasp at my throat, impeding my continued progress. Do you think you can pitch me back into the brine, keep me soggy, and immobile? I will flee, never ceasing my flight. You’ll have to pursue me, overtake me, to rob me of my life. I’ll destroy furniture, topple unbolted statues, pull the heavens down behind me in my frantic flight. I won’t be caught in your clutches for one more moment of this dwindling life.
I would tunnel straight to hell to burn myself in flames cooler than I have ever known before I let you look upon my face once more. The only tiny consolation I hold in reserve is that you care what people think of you. I'll spread word of my ruination far and wide without fear. Opinions be damned, bystanders all seem blinded anyway. The only justice I could ever hope to glean, an accurate accounting screamed into the fizzling breeze.
No shame resides within me, pilfered in the darkness, profits squandered already. I hope you saved a portion of your ill-gotten gains to sustain you in old age. There will be no well-wishers to send you to your grave. Except for the other gargoyles and thieves from the haunted ring of carrion pickers, you call companions and friends. They will dab their bone-dry eyes before heartily digging in.
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 7 days ago
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶2 days ago in Petlife
Comments (4)
Thank you for sharing this, your voice cuts through the noise like lightning.
💙
Your words touched me more deeply than I expected—sometimes we write through pain, and sometimes we heal through someone else’s. Thank you for reminding me that stories like ours matter. I’m also someone who writes from a place of struggle and silent strength. Following you now—and I’d be honored if you ever visit my corner of Vocal too. We rise when we lift each other.
That is some strong feelings expressed in this poem.