I entered as an accident,
and by accident I now leave.
With black sky above my head,
and black water beneath my feet,
I breathe deep, beerlit, shivering, and free of strings.
The salty sea's tides tease -- beckoning me.
Self-inflicted with age, far beyond
***** talk bedrooms, and burnt sage,
I travel deeper.

Deeper into the rocking cradle of the sea.
And any man staring into that black, wet eternity
would wonder about what he'll leave --
I've heard of leftover children, money, wives, lies, and lucky influence,
but I can't leave that to which I never cleaved.
I've got a suit and tie.
A pair of black shoes.
A pair of brown shoes.


My heart beats madly as the waves bash against my chest.
Whiteness laces the black water.
Immaculate white.
Whispering white.
A Great White Peace washes over me,
along with the seaweed and some wooden debris.
In this moment I say
-- I love you each
but under the sound of the sea,
my words, no more than flybuzz speech.

In this moment,
this Great White Peaceful moment
my existence does freeze,
as my body twists in the hands
of the black sea.