To be alive, or to imagine life;
is that the question?
My mind forsakes me
within my tincan walls like old Major Tom, that poor chap.
The omnipotent blue yawns before me -
thrumming,
electrical with the movement of so many glinting scales around my tiny submarine.
The Kraken, I feel, lurks there within the seaweed and coral.
How did I venture so far beyond the realms of men?
For empty promises of X's marking pots of gold at the ends of rainbows.

Only the call of the wicked, intoxicating sirens can guide me now.
Will they tell my wife I love her very much?

The electrical storm gathers itself into multiple oceanic-underbelly eddies.
The pressure sits thick in the atmosphere, like too-sweet perfume.
Headache perfume. Morning rum-breath headache.
The iron creaks and groans in its final warcry.
Perhaps the Kraken has found me at last!
I hold my breath
and the iron-scented rivers begin to flow.

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