vi. hadalpelagic /ˈhādlpəˈlajik/
i. of, or relating to the delineation for the deepest trenches in the ocean
ii. named after the greek god hades, god of the underworld
iii. there is no light in this zone, complete darkness, temperature just above freezing
entice me into your trenches. the rest invites the tired to rest.
you want in me like a knife wants in an apricot, to stab into tender flesh and claim my core another almond of your collection;
i want in you like a child wants in a vetoed bed, to disobey parents and nestle into warm, white covers at noon
and in an instant your hospitality pulls me in, you pull me in, pull me in. i drift away.
in my sleep i listen to the funeral march of chopin you claim lullaby;
the litany of horror books you attest bedtime stories on loop are recited in monotony.
i await the redolence of home, yet the linen smells of disinfectant and alcohol that my lungs cringe at; the springs as rigid as these walls that close me in.
(in the morning i awake in darkness,
my body bruised and broken, torn apart like the meager sheet you call
torn apart like the promise you name
is there a way out of this choice?)
/what is love but a lie?/
v. abyssopelagic /əˈbisōpəˈlajik/
i. of, or relating to or occurring in the region of deep water above the floor of the ocean
ii. from the greek word ἄβυσσος, meaning ‘bottomless’
iii. no light at all in this zone, temperature near freezing
the intensity of light in your embodiment correlates to the hope i embody.
today the abyss seems darker than ever before as my sense of life dips into negative recurring decimals;
the phosphorescence standard index is directly proportional to my sanity
the afternoons i spend listening to your fairytales, the bona fide stories
burn into my skin like tattoos
the frostbites on my flesh spread across my chest as your words sink in—
“trust me,” you whisper, your eyes bare into mine, freezing them into certitude, “this is truth, look– darkness fills, yet light consumes. trust me.”
“of course,” my bedeviled voice waves out in hypnosis.
(and yet from your songs of protection
i am alone)
/love is vacuity/
iv. bathypelagic /ˌbaTHəpəˈlajik/
i. of, relating to, living in the ocean depths between 2000 and 12,000 feet
ii. from the greek word βαθύς, meaning ‘deep’
iii. only visible light is produced by the creatures themselves
we are empty with light.
i bask in the flashes of fluorescence
the evanescent reflections of light glow in the darkness, as if umbrellas in a thunderstorm
they call out to me, “take comfort in my shelter pro bono!”
but i doubt them—
i evade the brightness when it comes for me
the water feels like the blade of a razor on my fingertips, cold as my heart, if i were to have one, yet tainted with a hint of heat. i bleed.
you mutter beside my ears, “light consumes”,
“yes, come, gloomy, call out to me,” i run from the fires,
yet the more i scorch away the more my gait wanes in the numbing cold you call comfort
(midnight is a cold deceiver)
/love is a ripping contradiction/
iii. mesopelagic /ˌmezəpəˈlajik/
i. of, or relating to oceanic depths from about 600 feet to 3000 feet
ii. from the greek word μέσον, meaning ‘middle’
iii. light is extremely faint from the twinkling lights of bioluminescent creatures
the light is heavy.
twilight is a confusing time for me and you. and you. we are caught between the day and the night. feet sore, skin blue, a stranger trying to find my way out of this bleak town, but the proclivity of my journey changes at random and voices divide.
i cover my ears from the complicating paradoxes of a concept so simple.
“trust me again, come listen, this is love—love is a tragedy that you face solitarily. alone is what you have; alone protects you,” the darkness coos by my ear, its frore breath spreading a sheen of ice on my neck.
“yes, hurry, hurry to believe; i can, i can trust as much as you deceive,” i mutter.
“no! listen, love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, you love because i first loved you!” the light declares into the semi-darkness, spreading a feeling of comfort and warmth i cannot describe. i do not understand love.
(i remain silent.)
/love is perplexity/
ii. epipelagic /epipəˈlajik/
i. of, or relating to the ocean depth where enough light penetrates for photosynthesis
ii. from the greek word επί, meaning ‘on’
iii. most of the visible light exists in this zone
i feel your glow before i see it.
it is an effulgent yellow through these clear waters. through the transparency i see it all. i see the truth like the colored clouds that float on by; i read your depths through spheres away from blue-grey sky. you are an overwhelming light.
(and the darkness drowns below)
/love is beautiful/
i. afloat /əˈflōt/
i. floating in water; not sinking
you are my h(e)aven.
you are my haven. you are my heaven.
i throw my neck out and breathe in the salty air. it hits me that all this time, the misguidance into darkness has led me away from the knowledge that i was drowning.
but now i find you. you pulled me out of the depths of darkness i once called aegis. and yet, the temptation of melancholy remains extant sporadically, pulling me down, down into the ocean of gloom. but im not going back down underwater.
(we will always be a light)
/love, love is You/
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.