Sleeping giants – Howl Davies
I found the sound of her voice
soft and alone-
always far gone.
Prone to the dull ache,
the drone of hatchet cries.
Coming alive in matchstick fantasies
of Ketamine lovers and 4am dynasties.
Wishing to relive the pornographic hallucinations
witnessed on prime-time re-runs. The revelations
of forever after, severed, plastered on the walls.
Sleeping giants in the corner, I could have sworn
I’d met them before, in another life,
in another reality. Where strife is passion,
and we are calamity. One in the corner
speaks of a self-performed tracheotomy,
how he saved his own life,
how he thrust a blade in his throat to breathe
and as he gasped for air
he felt alive.
He talked to me of drowning.
I already know the feeling.
I am realising it as I’m surrounded by
ghouls with worn out aesthetics, the
Sunday collective of thieves and brawlers,
heathens and others.
I always thought I could be an artist,
but I was afraid that I just meant depraved.
[ Howl Davies is a student & aspiring writer joining us from London. He is the creator of The Sounds Inside. We’re excited to share his work. ]