Nightmares of the Sea

The submarine lies just below the surface. Drift and dream, cramped oil-smelling chamber, a mattress and blanket, and no controls, we drift. Through the glass of portholes, the water is heavy, the tides are deep and threaten to drag this submersible lower. The air in here is old enough already. Don't move, don't breathe, just sleep and dream. There are kraken here, and serpents, and obscene ghost ships that float just below the surface. There is a light I do not wish to see, casts a cold shadow. Dead sailors knock on the metal, sound like a bell, their songs to get in, to get me out. The surface of this sea is Himalayas-deep, and pitted with submarines, whose pilots woke, and lost their dreams, and faced the nightmares of the sea.