Words

ANOTHER poem about words. This may turn into a series.

Floating in my watery grave
Encased inside black bile,
The silence is like a weight
Crushing like the night-water,

What is it that I crave?
A voice in denial--
I won’t say it’s too late.
I won’t say I’m a cutter.

What words I had I already gave
To love, and to put you on trial--
I won’t say life is going great.
I won’t say life’s in the gutter.

Words can’t save,
Words can’t beguile,
Words can’t abate,
Words can’t shutter.

Yeah, I’m surrounded by memories,
Blood carved out of me by words.
My grave spewed out of me, myself.
I’ve drowned in it, in you--in him.

Exactly as I said, it’s come to pass,
I don’t know how much longer this’ll last.

Author's Note

Eh, not too fond this particularly, but perhaps it will help me come up with something that better reflects what I'm trying to convey.

Picture credit: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/words-mean-nothing-ash-sivils.html Ash Sivils (Not mine!)