Drowning

 

Those two lips were the iron gates of hell.

spitting venomous words, sugar coated pills.

Hard hook sinking into soft flesh

you reeled me in: flesh, bone, skin.

 

Judas mouth poised open, ready for the kill;

gawping gallows, gasping to swallow me

and engulf me in flames, dowse me in shame.

 

Your hook was different, you prefer the pierce

of a needle, the blur of the bottle,

to package yourself up in a shoe box 

and paint the inside the colours of your mind. 

 

I can't remember the first day I knew 

your mind had swallowed you up and vomited you anew.

You were a King when I didn't know you

but you shattered, scattering yourself like dust.

 

And I feel granular too. I watched pieces of you drift 

away, cracking like broken eggshell, too sharp to grasp.

My chest is tightening; the air feels thick, cold and wet.

What's happening to me? I think I am drowning.