Help Falling (Seemingly) From the Sky


in the mental seas,


of salted water

filling my mouth,

hurting my eyes

and trying to descend

into my lungs.



scratching the horizon,

trying to understand

how to flounder

while staying above the blue line.

The same blue line separating life

from death.




In one such moment,

when it seems all hope is drowning/ed,

towards me

floats a log.

Sturdy and hard

Inside the heart of the log

is a small bounty of food.


I hold onto the log.




But as the sun of the next day


the log

starts to disintegrate

and abandons me on its

way to death.




But that

is not the only log of hope.

There are others,

I get a new log everyday at dawn.




With each log’s sustenance boost

I get fatter and heavier.

I now need more than just one log

to keep my girth afloat.

That single daily wooden stick

is no longer able to support me.


At this rate

I may sink within the next day.

The next hour~

The next minute~

The next second~


How will I fare

if the sticks

stop coming all together?

How will I continue to live

when even with their help,

I am on the brink?


“How can I trust

an outside source

to carry me through the waves?”

I can’t



I can’t live


on stuffed buoyant sticks.

falling seemingly from the sky

I can’t live

with reality doctored

and dependent

on an outside source.


I need to learn.

I need to gain the skills.

To swim

well and fast enough

to carry myself above the waves

to the island of paradise.

Only then will I

forever cease

my ungraceful floundering.

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