Below the depths of sunken ships,
Beyond the light of some eclipse
There’s no control, gone are grips.
The mute are spitting Freudian slips.
Below the graves of soldiers dead
Sharply slain with shards of lead;
Sleeping still, a loved one lost;
She didn’t sleep, she turned and tossed.
Below the mounds of worlds past
Was once the new and now the last.
Beyond the mist into the dusk
The sound of nothing, the smell of musk.
Below my pencil, hard to find
Just another errant line.
Thoughts conceived, thoughts are dead,
Sharply slain with shards of lead.