I cried, shed tears onto your skin as my heart screamed for you to hear me, see me. You felt nothing, noticed even less. Buried deep within our inky chambers, without even a sliver of the moon or stars, I lay, waiting for your acknowledgement, my insides clawing and scraping their way out. You exhale and I think this might be the moment where you pull me into you away from the gaping hole that pulls me closer and closer. I clasp the edge, my fingernails digging into the sides, holding on, feet dangling, hanging halfway into the bottomless eclipse below. I consider-perhaps it will be nice, the end. I imagine it a warm feeling, the heat of the pull and thrust, the liberation of the release, slow loss of the senses; it all fades away. There is no greater adventure than that beyond conscious human existence. And yet, what greater happiness is there than life? It falls on me, drops directly between my two shoulder blades, a slice. Here it is, reality hits again. Escape is for losers and you're in it to win it. Tomorrow will be your beginning. I don't need you to sense me-not quite but close-I see myself. Streams of saltwater cleanse the cavity, sterilization for future usage, the next phase following forty winks.