And if I dream of summer
Is it because I miss the
Warmth trickling from
The soil and the sun
Or am I craving the gold?
Am I so overfed on
Capitalist propaganda
That the richness of sun,
The decadence of heat
And nudity and sex
On the beach
Is so intriguing that
I've learned to crave it?
I am overfed on something.
It bloats in my gut,
Curdles on my breath,
And gives me this
Horrific burning
All throughout my chest
That if I'm not careful
Will start to sound
Like a warning
That this life is just
Not sustainable.
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
Keep reading
More stories from Silver Daux and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (3)
Oooo, curdles on my breath, I especially loved that!
Extraordinary example for like minds of these pale, unhealthy times. I have let this feeling swallow me and finally am trying to write my ear to the surface for air. Your brilliant wording makes this craziness feel less lonely.
Nice