Just coming in and out like a tide.
The city constantly yells and drains.
When I look up at the sky
Crackling power lines aside the shimmering moon.
Thinking to myself what am I going to do?
Behind walls
Locked doors
Closed curtains
Undercovers.
I find myself with me.
We're freaking out and we don't what to do.
We self soothe
&
Hang out.
But it's all just wrong.
We used to kick and punch.
So it's better I suppose
But that was draining.
All I want is sleep now.
Is it really the cousin to death?
But I have dreams.
Day & Night.
Some feel good, others bad.
But that's kind of like life, I suppose.
It seemed so real.
What is real?
Imagined, was it not?
I suppose I really don't know.
My existential crisis hops on the canoe.
Doesn't matter if you're in the water.
The tide
comes in
&
out no matter.
It just is.