Addiction. A Poem by Griffin Silver

Isn’t it just like a man?
Sitting, watching the swaying hips
each conniving turn.

She slithers
through the blue cigarette smoke.
I do things differently,
doorways for suckers.
I brace for impact,
through layer after layer
clearing out foundation after foundation
taking years to establish
but moments to dissipate.

She pulls at the meat
twirling it between her fingers
throwing it from her talons
into the air
to her tapered beak.

Could we all be monsters
demon lurking in the night
loitering under street light
looking to the painted faces
and the saber tooth heel?

What could I feed her?
What cherished memories sacrificed
for the next high?

 

 

(I do not support; strongly condemn the type of misogyny in this poetry,(though it is a perspective in society that needs to be addressed) she’s intended to be terrible because of what she represents, NOT because she is a woman.)

Wavering in Dark Places

The ground was cold on the night

Foe became more than friend

The leaves fell from the trees

And your tarnished hands

So softly held the last flower

In bloom

But your hands hold no water

And the sun

Is yet to be seen.

And just like every beautiful

Offspring

It choked in your grasp

If I could place you in the recess

Of my memory

Trap you in the insanity of my mind

Tighten the grip

Thirsty, crawling

And celebrate

Dancing in your anguish

Me and my demons

Prancing

Revolving,

Prepared to feed with lustful eyes

And the needs of a lonely lover.

Priorities

How could I love you

When the breath you

Breathe is another man’s

In the modern world

A person’s quality

Is weighed in empathy.

Did you mean any of it?

Or was it your guilt that

Drove you to deceive me?

Do you have time

For my playdate?

Or am I sent to the

Back of the line?

The Call of the Wild

An equilibrium

Between pleasure and pain.

A pros and cons list

I’m running into the dark

Through the cracks

Between teeth

And into the belly

Of the beast.

She yanks my leash

Tethered to her belt

She is a walker of dogs

And I am meant for the wild,

For the freedom in independence,

Individualism

Isolation.

I jump into the abyss

Into the vastness

The sweltering stomach acid

But she still holds me by my leash

Suspended in esophagus

A moment between isolated liberty

And affectionate constraint.

The leash tightens around my throat

Her well to do

Tender noose.

At a Moonless Night

Howling at a moonless night

It’s so easy to translate my rejection

To your tragedy

I cry out in pain

To think of all of the

Crescent’s I serenade

With wailing nostalgia

With returning moments

When I have nothing else

When reality hurts too

Much to bare without

You

Howling to an empty night

I translate rejection to

Self-destruction