One step closer to punishment.
.
The moon is bleeding out.
Right into my mouth.
Its pale light fills my belly,
Widens my soul into something
Obscene, whore-ish, hungry.
.
Two steps closer to punishment.
.
Just like a crack to the cheek
The desperation wounds me.
Red fingertips rise like a story.
The pain is familiar.
I cannot weep for myself.
.
Three steps closer to punishment.
.
The darkness is a home
But I am bloated with moonlight.
Can you hear me begging
In the quiet of this night
To be relieved of this pain?
.
Four steps closer to punishment
.
Puncture my soul.
Let the wound run clean
Until the thumping madness
Has puddled and pooled below.
Let me empty my soul.
.
Five steps closer to punishment.
.
I cannot live with the constellations
Shoved in my throat.
I'll die of suffocation on these stories
Of the damned souls
That look like me.
.
Six steps closer to punishment.
.
I will fall down these stairs
And ruin the rhythm
Of my perfectly crafted demise.
Do you know how long it took
For me to paint this suffering?
.
Seven steps closer to punishment.
.
It took every breath and every tear
To create this color of pain
Now staining my hands,
Stamping itself across my eyes
With the word "sinner".
.
Eight steps closer to punishment.
.
I will never be more
Than a comet lost to its crater.
Nothing more than a shadow
In the eyes of someone else's
Dancing possibility.
.
Nine steps closer to punishment.
.
Will you hear the door shut?
The ringing bell of the last night?
Or will this all remain
A shadow of a shadow?
Fully forgotten?
.
Peril.
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


Comments (8)
Your work is always so deep and magical somehow. I love all the descriptions in this one! Amazing work!
There’s something hauntingly beautiful about how you’ve captured the fleeting nature of life and moments. 'Ephemeral' reads like a whisper — delicate, transient, yet echoing deeply. Your words remind us to cherish what never stays, but always leaves a mark. Stunning work.
This one hit me right in the feels—now I’ll be looking for my own Shadow in every snowbank and aurora!
Golly, this got my heart rate up with each successive step. Fantastic work, Silver!
This may be my new favorite poem. So dark so good
Madness is so contagious...i have been noticing it lately near me. It can be freeing
"Do you know how long it took For me to paint this suffering?" This line made my heart ache. Your most recent poem is striking.
This is a potent representation of the mind disintegrating, SD. "Red fingertips rise like a story," is a lapidary line!