At the Bottom

No one can tell that you're crying at the bottom of the ocean.

I sit here before the screen in grey shorts, no shoes and a white tee shirt. I write this manuscript for you to read. My eyes are bloodshot. I sit here on this friday watching you in my head dancing on that crooked floor. The floor is tilted to the right. And I am strapped to this belt clinging from the left.

You asked me to go, but I had a sleepy head.

I sit here, in the dark, and watch you sleep. I watch you flow into that dream that feels so real. I sit here and wish for that static sound to surround me so I can feel like I'm under this digital waterfall. Synchronized thunderclaps, vibrant pixels fill the morphing screen shot.

I sit here and wait. But no one seeks me out.

I sit here and contemplate what next move to make. When I should turn on that powerstrip so all these fluorescent lights blend into neon. Then the digital droplets will form around your bed so I can stare at you. And your body dances on that crooked, shifted floor. A floor of code and infinite love.

I sit here and I love you. I watch you smile at me while your eyes are closed. I watch you tilt your head back and laugh at me when I have a silly head-- I don't have a silly head, I have a sleepy head. I sit here and watch you swim up and up, waiting for that gasp of air; and I swim down towards you losing my breath after each stroke. Your eyes are still closed but your mouth screams out into the freezing water calling for my hand. You claw and claw until you cannot claw anymore and I swim faster and faster and faster. My muscles tense up and my head feels light. My blood swells and my body kicks into shock. My spine stops talking and my body goes numb. I float upwards and you float downwards. But then I let all my air out-- bubble by bubble it comes through my nose. Slowly you disappear into the darkness but I'm right behind you. And when I hit the seabed I will watch you sleep again.

I sit there and wait. But you never wake up.