Dark is what he sees

Dark is what he sees…
What he feels…

dark is the sea
black

his heart is the dam
Built with decayed wood

release the pressure
let the cold black flow

he whispers:
“let it flow”

the only beacon
a withered light house

the glow is the path
guiding his frail frame

yet it fades
with every splash

he whispers:
“let it flow”

limbs kick and scream
toward the gleam

they stop
and give in

his body begins to blend with black
the cold stains his skin

the feeling flows like ink
dripping off every digit  

he whispers:
“let it flow”

his eyes wide and strange
the realization of end

gulps his last sip of air
and his body slumbers into black

the dam breaks
the black flows