If you were to drown

I’d toss and turn

in

Godless rays.

I’d eat the dust and mites

below my

head.

Save the remaining

snack below my

bed.

I hear your gurgling

throat being flooded

by that

trespassing

expanse.

Something about you doesn’t

stop.

Your arm is an

oar.

What do you paddle

for?

I contemplate your

remanents;

your metaphysical

ashes.

Tease me,

slash

these thoughts

in

t

wo!

Why bother?

You’ve drowned,

No one knows.

No one.

If you were to drown

You would finally realise

Drowning is not poetic.

The gentle sea does not

Softly suck you under.

Drowning

Is not

Poetic.

You would have your breath sucked from you

As your ears burst

And you would finally realise

Drowning is not poetic.

You would regret

Telling people to have fun

Romanticising

A terrible thing

That would make family and friends scream in anguish

Just as you would scream inside yourself,

Begging

For another chance at life.

If you were to drown

You would urge the whole world

To never drown

Or think of drowning

Or even write of it,

These writers with their magic words who glorify death

But can never do it justice

In the reality of its pain and horror.

And you would say

Never drown.

If you were to drown, I think I'd laugh. Maybe I'd hold your head down in the water, making sure the chemicals do their trick; that the only time you ever rise back up is when you're an empty corpse filled with pool water, fished out from the deep end of the pool by one of those minimum-wage pool boys you love to mess around with.

You have a fiery personality. People like that about you, but I don't. I don't think it's funny to light a match in front of someone's face, fully knowing that they almost died in a fire when they were young. I don't think it's cute to lead a guy on for years. If you were to drown, I'd like to watch you sink into the water, watch the clear, chlorine water fill your lungs and extinguish the flame inside you. Maybe that'd shut you up.

You always roll your eyes at me. Never anyone else, just me. Why? Don't go on ignoring me again. I can't wait to see your eyes close one last time, a prolongued blink for the rest of eternity. Or maybe your eyes'll stay open, staring at me from under the water as I watch your eyes roll back into your purple head.

Of course, this is all hypothetical. I'd be absolutely miserable if people thought I would let you drown on my watch!

But maybe, if you stop floundering about for one second and shut up, I could make it look like an accident.

If I drowned in papyrus reeds

Where swallow tales sip honey mead

As feather quills drift empty seas

Of bleach-white blankets, west to east

I’d cast away the characters

Of fountains penned, my words, rehearse

And inkwells, once of life, preserves

All Q’s void of the U-ni-verse

I’d double stitch graphite in gauze

To de-compose with peat and moss

A novel end, my death, the cause;

In writer’s block, I drowned out thoughts

If I were to drown,

if I were to surrender –

No.

If I were to seek

the waves clamoring

to claim my breath,

if I were to drown

and forgo naming names

and just sink down sans

plea or excuse and render

my bones coral full fathom five –

your father lies, you bastard –

if I were to drown

tonight

and cry my innocence only

and fight to cry it

through the gargle

and the strangle

would you believe me

then?

Goddamn you.

if I were to drown

I'd watch the sparkling sun

as I floated down

#haiku

If I were to drown

in the depths of your eyes

succumb to the lure

of your honey-tipped lies

burn from the touch

of your silky-smooth hand

ache from the love

my heart can’t demand –

Would you come along for the ride?

Watch me drown and toss me aside?

Laugh as I ached and cried out your name?

Walk away as swiftly as you came?

If you were to drown, I would teach you to fish,

because teach a man to swim, he’ll go hungry tomorrow,

teach a man to fish, and he’ll always have something in his belly,

to weigh him down

If you would catch fire, I would teach you to cook.

because if you burned your bridges,

you’d better know how to make lemonade.

If you cried for help, I’d teach you to sing.

because no one likes complainers in this world,

but music makes the world go around.

If you were down in the dumps, I’d teach you math,

because knowing what you miss is not as important,

as knowing how much of it is gone.