Tied up,
breathing slow,
rope bristle burns the ankles as the body is lowered head first into a tank of warm water.
An embracing grasp,
a gentle suffocation,
an innominate pleasure
as you rhyme yourself with deafening aqua, submerged,
only hearing your hearing go heatedly blue,
only feeling your feelings mesh weightlessly tender
into a fluid envelope addressed nowhere, but close.
Close to the edge,
drawn electrified toward the edge.
Fear excites a bolt of panic, blooming here at the edge
where there's no more breath to take.
The drowning moment totally engulfs
and relinquished control succumbs you in its night's sky...
...but we are relieved at its brink.
The senses flood back like stark realizations
as you are retrieved from your chamber of inundation
and your soaked skin is clawed by air that shivers over your shaking self,
dripping as the ropes are severed, gasping.
Alive closest to death,
the climax at the tollbooth.
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