The Deep End

Across the deep end there waits
the forest of the damned,
far below, dead moons
and pale Atlantis out of reach.

The sky is dim. I feel a hand upon my leg.
I cannot breathe. I cannot beg. I cannot swim.

So soon the end. So at peace alone in the cold dark waters.
Ask me where I�ve been. Beware the answer.
Come on in. The water�s fine.

November 8, 2006

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