The Shadows of the Water

This needs a lot of work, so any advice would be great. Thanks, Mai.

The Shadows of the Water

Slowly slowly, it clogs my capillaries,
And the only way I know I’m still alive
Is the fact my heart still beats
Though I compel it otherwise.
It weights my body.
Leaden lungs,
And I’m dragged under the rip tide.
I can’t breathe
And I wrestle
I scream
I fight for the surface
But I realise it will soon over-power.
So I sleep.
Passive to the tide
Sleep.
Aqua-darkness below,
I see the light shine down
Gloopy through the water
The shadows dance.
And Voices call to me
As I slowly drown.

Voices,
disconnected from bodies.

I want to be consumed by the voices to be part
of them for them to carry me to the surface
to help lighten the weights that pull the weights that I can’t
untie to cry unabashed to tell them what
I can’t tell myself.

But they talk too fast too solidly.
Death should be a peaceful lonely place.

I want them to leave me not to touch me not to
ask questions I cannot answer in the plight of death to stop
trying to help in ways they cannot help.

For they are disembodied
Sad and without physicality. They cannot float me to the surface.