And I reach my finger so far down my throat as if I'm fishing,
I can never seem to catch anything besides sea sickness.
A whole ocean pouring from my mouth,
the saltiness burns as it comes up.
The waves are violent, as if they are trying to knock me all the way down to the bottom.
Cement fills my head dragging me down even faster.
And I'm stranded on this island,
I sit here thinking that this is going to be what finally kills me.
I continue to starve,
almost as though I'm used to it already.
I used to fish with my grandfather, I miss when things were simply me.