where to begin…
what even matters at this point?
the days blur,
or is it weeks?
time drifts like fog on the water,
soft at the edges, dissolving as i reach for it.
i need something solid, something ahead—
a goal, a place, a reason to move.
but more than that, i need a tether.
not an anchor, not a chain,
just a line—something to hold,
something that can tug when i forget which way is forward,
something i can pull when i need to feel close to something real.
but the last of my tethers have frayed,
unraveled into the cold, dark current.
i reach, i pull—only to find slack,
the rope trailing loose in the vast, empty water.
i am adrift.