sitting in bed,
thinking about life,
nothing to do but
     s
       i
         t
           with a knife,
till my
   b
     l
       o
         o
           d
             drains  o
                            u
                               t,
like the draining of a sink,
and it will soon
     r
       u
         n
           clear,
and I will very too soon
     s
       i
         n
           k,
sink into the ground where I once arose,
now I'll lie
     d
       o
         w
            n
               forever inclosed,
with my secrets trapped with me inside,
forever until I eternally
     a
       b
         i
           d
             e
               .