Drink and be Weary

the words come out of my stomach

i vomit them up-

body's reaction to poison 

cleanse, cleanse, oh ye old soul,

cleanse and make my mouth a fountain of arsenic,

my tongue a poisoned chalice. 

drink and be weary, Reader -

can't this rage contaminate you too? 

the words come out of my stomach

I vomit them up-

so the space where my hatred sits is emptied,

so the space where my sorrow sits is emptied,

but drink and be weary, Reader,

for if I am empty, are ye not filled?

Filled with that same stuff that

roars inside me, demands to be fed,

whispers inside me, demands to be fed,

cries out inside me, demands to be said.