Thoughts better left unheard

Certain thoughts
Invoke a sense
Of sickness in my stomach.

Nausea embraces discomfort,
As words from memory echo
Their mantra of self-loathing.

They churn in my gut
Like a coiled serpent
Moving its body,
Pressing my organs
Into negative service.

These thoughts
Sit and percolate,
Slowly fermenting
A thick noxious
Syrupy gloom.

The essence fills me completely.

I feel submerged,
With my eyes closed,
And holding my breath,

I feel my ears and nostrils fill
And I eventually succumb.

I can no longer breathe,
I’m drowning,

Alone in the dark
As the black void
Swallows all colour.