My fingers are dipped in green.
Paint made of the toxic sludge
Of burning hope's smoke and caffeine.
I seem to think the devil won't judge
If I can distract his wandering eyes
With a flash and a surprise.
.
It's never worked and I doubt it will
But it gives me something to do,
Some way to find some time to kill.
If I don't kill it, time will fill my heart with rue
Until there is nothing left but to sit
In the dark sorrow with a razor and...quit.
.
Because I'm hungry for the toxicity,
Starving for the simplicity
Of toxic green sludge poisoning my veins,
Colouring my ribbons red and making these chains
Rusted, useless, and dangerous on my wrists
In the same way it melts my wits.
.
My fingers are dipped in the green of some
Last ditch effort to slip away and become numb.
The grey clouds above beckon.
This coldness has turned me into a weapon
Eager to go home where the sky doesn't sing
And I'm nothing more than a dead king.
.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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Comments (2)
Great piece, Profound but beautifully written 📝 ♥️
I'm really at a loss for words because I've been there. Many years ago, I felt that urge and to my blessing and good fortune, my young son had a nightmare and woke up. That is what changed my life around. That and nothing more. But, here I am 50 years later, still struggling but still happily hanging on.