Eyes were like the difference
that makes the surface and bottom
of an ocean without ships.
The fog too immense
for normal aquatic life,
but I still sank
all the same.

The water felt like solids;
green murky depths
that seemed to be
leaking from my own ears,
creating this vast sea
single-handedly.

Dragged down by chains,
hooks inserted into flesh,
like a fish without hope,
a limbo lacking doubt,
taking me along despair’s
graphic scenery route,

phantasmagorically correct
and fantastically imperfect
was the chimerical activity
that surrounded me,
as I refused to hold my breath;
and in its thickest cloud,
I fulfilled a destiny
bound for death.