your words hurtle like a charging force
driving forward and not slowing down
piercing my lungs as blood makes me drown
I choke and sputter and gasp for air
your merciless diction is so unfair

grey and green splatter my vision
life and death, I found the perfect division
I teeter on the edge of being comatose
throat burnt to a crisp, like overcooked toast

I smell burning and fire 
As my anger only grows
You shoved salt on my wounds
and made sure they never closed

you twisted your fingers around my neck
squeezing until its wrung out on a deck
you air your dirty laundry to dry
on the launderette you made inside

this throat of mine, now yours to use
skeletons hidden, growing obtuse
skin stretches and pulls, under all the strain
will it ever go back to normal again?
the wetness from your clothes dries me out
sandpaper on my throat, what's that about?
I cant even think, it hurts too much
I might succumb, descend to dust-