Maybe I have run out of words to offer you.
Maybe the sack of sacrifice in my chest
Has finally scraped the last off the bottom.
Maybe there aren't any poetics left to wax.
.
Maybe this is the eternal torture of the bleeding soul.
The kind of thing I earned between crass writings
And words that carved gruesome scenes
Across the empty plains of innocent minds.
.
Maybe I deserved this sputtering out of gas.
Maybe I touched on something that was touch-starved and ugly,
Hungry for an obsessive eye to suck on and spit out,
Maybe squelch between its teeth.
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 (7)
Ooo! This is superbly scathing and yet so controlled too!! Excellent work, Silver!
That last stanza felt so unsettling. Loved your poem!
Goodness, this hits. And I love how harsh the last line landed. Really great piece :)
When we run out of words we find new ones. You inspire me to keep tapping into my random muse and my over tapped space.
Beautiful poem, and relatable.
You clearly haven't run out of words. I get what you mean though. Well done.
Oh...again, Silver, your wordplay and just stirring visuals make for a gut-punch of a poem. Maybes are one of the worst things, I think!