Wordplay

[pixxie]

With voices hoarse
from screaming, and skin
the vilent crimson of fury,
they lacerate each other
with poisonous words
that will bring regret
and deep remorse in the morning.

And yet they continue screaming.

The anger echoes
in my ears--suffocates me
with its vile passion. I turn
the taste of my pounding heart
over an over in my mouth.
Bitterness. It tastes like
fear. It tastes like
the frustrated tears that blur
my vision as I silently observe
the angry clash
of tongues--doing nothing
but holding my own.

[Hannibal]

This reminds me of an M.C. Escher art work.
But with words...
The title is well deserved.