Today, My Words Are Easily Made Dark

I Can’t Easily Make My Words Dark...

Even in anger, the tobacco doesn't find the cancer to spread.
Even in sadness, the dust never settles upon the tired, open book.
Yet now, the strands of black smoke blows from the rusted pipe
That is shoved down my throat, and I choke on these words.

See my throat, ripped open, and let the sounds
Spill out as blood pooling on the table.
My fingers grasp at the hot liquid as it sticks maliciously to my fingers.
I can't strand the letters together,
And all my words become stutters and broken syllables.

The truth is what I've told him.
Over and over.
With each look.
But, did he refuse to contain it in his grasp?

Like the blood seeping from my spread fingers.
Like the smoke seeping from my pores.

Dip me in water and rinse me of my transgressions.
Or does that sound to 'Godly' to you?
Burn me in cool flames and brush away my 'exaggerations'.

Everyone has faults.
Does that sound about right?