Saturday Night

A poem | chasing the dragon

Photo by on

In this night’s hour the serpent
speaks to We — humans
suspended by strings,
sensitive to realities whispering
beyond what’s seen.

Serpents shadows stretch fingers,
then hands from the latter,
stealing emotion, memory,
and every matter,
leaving nothing worth matter.

Go numb the haunt that sleeps
beyond our horizon, grant us
night’s hour to dance with smiles.
By morning, our limbs
lay in sadly twisted piles.

Thanks for reading : )