The
water rises and falls
In
this place with the moods of the moon,
Slapping
at the shore of stones
With
each passing cargo ship
I
am lost in the tides like a small boy
Who
has been cast out into the wide sea
Desperate
to feel a bottom I know
I
can never reach except by drowning,
And
I am already way over my head
Each
breath filling me up until I can no longer
breathe,
or think – floating in this place
as
helpless as drift wood as I cast my gaze
around
for one desperate glimpse of land
knowing
that if I can put my feed down
on
something firm
I
can survive.
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