Maybe there are no words left to spill
Because the milk has gone bitter on the counter.
Maybe the elegance of our smooth words
Has rotted alongside the foul milk, curdling now.
.
I am tired of the talking, the sour thoughts
That decomposed between my teeth with neon cereal
Months and months and years ago.
I am tired of thinking these dreams are fresh.
.
Because somewhere along the way the produce went bad.
The fresh snow covering my dreams became crunchy,
And then grey, slushy, filthy.
I don't want to play here.
.
The milk is bitter and so are my dreams.
They've been left on the counter
In the hopes of sprouting a plant
But this was never that kind of dream to begin with.
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:
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AUGUST 1976
I was listening to some reaction videos on the internet the other day when I "re-discovered" one of THE greatest and uniquely American songs I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. I forgot that Arlo Guthrie comes from a sturdy stock of great folklorists-namely his father Woody Guthrie. I associate Arlo with "Alice's Restaurant", so much so that I forgot he is an exceptional storyteller in his own right.
By Victor Mendez2 days ago in Poets
Comments (14)
Oh my, that was so gross yet so deep! Loved your poem!
Nothing gets to me quite like the smell of sour milk, such a strong analogy to explore! Well done, Silver!
I like this yucky image of the snow a lot, “And then grey, slushy, filthy”! 👍 Hoping for better dreams all around.
"Don't cry over spilled milk".... but what about sour milk?? Jokes aside this was ominous and had a foreboding feel to it! Great work SD!!
Ouuu, this is dark, beautiful, and visceral. Loved it, Silver.
"the sour thoughts That decomposed between my teeth with neon cereal." That is amazing imagery, as is the crunchy snow. Womderful, powerful piece. Well done.
Powerful imagery here, Silver. This is a poem I need to share with other people (and I will be doing that).
Sour milk is the worst! But turns out it makes a great example in the rendering of poems. My personal experience with spoiled milk alone was enough to gage the unfortunate reality behind your words. Great work!!!
Such a traditionally wholesome thing, milk and here it is in its lumpy stinkiness. I like the reference to neon cereal and the snow as it becomes mushed. Definite vibes of something pure becoming sullied.
This really hits home—the way dreams can go sour before you even realize it. The bitter milk and slushy snow make it all feel so real and a little too relatable. Great stuff.
What an impactful, metaphorical poem. I was reminded so keenly of how I felt at the dissolution of my marriage. What a wondrous thing you do with mere words, breathing life into a depth between illusions and reality.
Beautiful! Who knew milk gone bad could be so poetic?
Fantastic poem! Wonderful. Spoiler, the milk isn’t good! How long have you been writing poetry?
Damn it, Silver. I swear you write beautifully broken gold every single time you put pen to paper or fingers to keypad or keyboard. This was beautifully rendered...the flow exquisite and the way you took the awesome and sad metaphor from start to finish. Perfection. Can I ask...how long did this take you to write?