Yard Sale of Thoughts

Tis a divine descent and a quick ascension to be explored at your own discretion. .

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I only want the deepest dive, 
the giant stride,
pressure pushing down
on an airtight chamber,

the euphoria you promised,
impaired judgment,
overconfidence,

biochemical bubbles,
numbness.

Bring me your powerful light,
pistol grip, dive alarm;
I’ve been living off the suction 
of a stranger's arms.

The squeeze,
the swell;
let me back inside your diving bell,

decompression sickness,
weakness.

I need your deepest dive,
narcosis of the mind.
I hear you’re good at multi-tasking 
and I’m not asking you to spend the night.

No matter how much we calculate,
six times as much oxygen 
circulates our brains,

a convulsive abyss,
descend into the ache.

There's greater stress 
at deeper depths,
and when you're at risk of imploding,
I'll send you back floating

towards the phantom surface
with a sluggish kiss.
You assumed the ordinary risks,

and we reached homeostasis today.
Bliss, an ocean floor away.

©2024 | K.F. Hartless

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Artwork: “When Diver Meets Mermaid, Even If Sparks Don’t Fly, the Happy Couple Certainly Make Waves” Walter Puttner (1872-1953)