Mechanical clouds,

the pendulum to the pit

sink lower and lower.

Since I was born,

the threat of water has

been as a canopy above me.

My diving gear is holey.

Nothing breaks down

With a promise of pain.

My lungs will fill as sponges,

And then there will be

the catharsis of pressure,

the implosion as the

weight of water lays on me

like caramel on whipped cream.