One day
I mounted a ship.

Days would caress the outside of the vessel,
but never my body.
I could not feel
the passing of time.

It was quiet.
There was a small window.
Blackness,
a void decorated by stars.

...

Months tore away at me.

The ship doesn't land.

I still don't know
where I am going.

The silence crushes me.
I don't know if I have
a soul anymore.
I am unsure of certainty.
I doubt the existence of my body.

My hands are not mine.
The walls are not real.

Loneliness is deafening,
the muffled sound of my sobbing
in the
distance.
I am not here.
There is no "here".
My heart quivers under the pressure
of my empty thoughts.
I am
overwhelmed
and feel nothing.

I am alone.
Nowhere to land.
The ship keeps flying.

I don't know where I am going,

but maybe

maybe
I am


getting there.