6 Feet

The quiet of the day,
The stillness of the creek,
The absolute of the deviation from intentions,
The hole is so wide,

I cannot compare,
The fondness of my own heart,
To the beating of the rhythm of the Dead,
The beating of which beckons me,
And yet so does the softness of my bed,
And the soothing feel of my pillow,

Seeing it now, the hole,
The coffin as well, empty as it is,
The digging had stopped hours ago,
And the dirt mound sits yards away,
And its raining, heavily,

But the depth means little to me,
The water is cold against my skin,
The chill of the wind, more-so,
The sky is cloudy, dark and brooding,

The water is higher now,
My bed is farther away,
And I'm sinking, my legs numb from the cold,
And I float downward,
Into the water I go,
The cold creeping like an icy fire in my limbs,
And I was sinking,
And I was sinking,

And my face dipped beneath the waves,
And into the hole,
The coffin was gone,
And the hole getting deeper,
My bed faded away even more,
And then it was gone,

And I was sinking,
And the hole was just a star in the darkness
And I was floating downward,
And the water was even colder,
And I closed my eyes, and the world faded into black...

And I was sinking,
And I was sinking...

Sinking...