The taste of putrid bile,
It burns,
It's vile,
I lose all smiles.
Knots wrap around within.
Inwards purging
Themselves.
Pulling & tugging, demanding
A way out.
As claustrophobic
As a restricted heart
Sinking in my stomach,
That gurgles.
The waves washing
Around the anchor,
Dead (weight) in
A cast out sea
Of polluted waters.
But don't you see,
That the ghost
In me,
Is only found in
This very sea.
Bile;
Bitter, putrid, vile,
Choking on
A body retching,
An empty soul.
Unnurtured, wasted
It wants out of,
Me.
A heart
Beating; blistering red.
A raw throat,
A choke
A cough
A very solitary single
Tear
Drop.
And so, my saving grace
Is what feels like
An ocean of pain,
Within me,
That has yet to pour out,
Thus not drowning
Me,
At sea.

© Sia Jane