Drifting I Sink Poem by Wendy Bureau

Thoughts impregnated on the minds of the weak
As thy tongue seeps spit, of gain less remorse
Saliva soured statements of regret
Rage onward, 'pon thy uneven course

What good is to be resurrected from?
The sunken depths of mouth's watery pool
Such despair and darkness, linger stagnant
Giving bed to, wet grave, for housing fool

Unrelentless in its merry mocking
'Bloody Blaggard' hummed of distasteful speech
Struggling with flailing limbs, numb of feel
To drown amongst, I rage, with ominous screech

Engorged in a wet water burial
Slight remnants of face, still visible
Nostrils grabbing, like hands, for air of life
Poised panic, to that not perceivable

Completely consumed now, drifting, I sink
Swallowing gulps, of wet airless breath
Open eyes, bulged and fixed, seem lidless now
Light of surface life gives way, unto death

Body braced, encased, yet so simply free
Hugged in water arms, of puddle protection
Weighted, sinking spirals, of dead man’s float
Lament's treasure tossed without further detection

A mere carcass now, flesh of engorged sight
Swollen of ridicules own lavish tongue
Speak that not, of my ill fated demise
Nor tell tale, of my sad song, never sung

I lived not of defined prosperity
Yet I danced alive of own destined will
My voice of breath and body limp, now spared
Thou' immortal spirit, you cannot kill