I'm going down for the third time:
My situation is markedly hopeless.
The immense vortex in my soul
Matches incrementally to the riptide
That is drowning my body.

It's hard to continue swimming
With a body that is entirely vertical.
There is no surface beneath my feet
Which are endlessly searching for
Some kind of steady purchase
Underneath the shifting waves.

I can't call for help, or rescue;
Everything above me is obscure. . . .
The landscape is fading away,
As my lungs are deprived of air.
Water is the only thing I can breathe,
Because my eyes are all that
are visible
Above the murky surface.

I wonder, as I'm going down,
'Do the dead dream in silence?
And does anyone in the graveyard...