I sank my ship.
I sit on the ocean floor —
Dead a while, just well-preserved.
Lifeless, but habits continue
To give rise to actions,
Echoes of old antics.
Like the movement of a headless chicken,
The kicks and flips of a dead fish —
That’s all that’s left of me
Since I sunk my ship.
I’ve got no head,
Yet like a dead chicken,
I still fidget.
No one left to witness —
Just smoke and mirrors,
Just images.
Pictures flow quick,
To give the illusion of movement.
Arising and passing,
No winning, no losing,
No answer, no conclusion.