swallow the flood

the water laps my knees 

and everything is fine

i drink away my sorrows

in vodka and wine

the water up to my thighs now

things swim and bite my toes

if I bleed, i do not care

if I can't see, it's not there

the water rises and rises till my belly

the hollow filled with calories and lies

the machine in my gut complains

but I let the water rise

up to my neck in this now

floating, forgetting to swim

the water makes its way inside me

and i let it win.

----

there is no point in writing a poem that would not kill you if it stays unwritten. this one is for the void.

underwater

it all looks so different
swimming, slurred, shimmering
as I look up through the water
the sun is a bubbling blurred bulb in the blue sky

fish swim by me
their meat station
as the salt water
bleaches my bones

a house of bones
with no one inside
forever asleep, eyes wide open
with a grin that I can't hide

and if I dream, it will be water
filling me up, surrounding me
in darkness, in the cold
there is nothing left to feel

everything is cool
everything is calm
fish have made their homes
in the bones of my palm
---

Water theme, man. I am alright. I just find drowning a fascinating topic for poems. There is a serenity to the ocean, to be underwater, to stay there and never breathe air again.