This is how it feels to try

I hold an ocean inside me.
I feel it pushing against my skin, pulsing, crashing, swirling.
There is a storm inside me and the walls are crumbling.


I am crumbling.
My walls are falling down and my body falls apart.
I am drowning from the inside, but I'll tell you I'm fine.
That I can wait it out.


"In the eye of the hurricane there is quiet"-
on the outside I am the eye,
but there is a storm inside that I cannot keep at bay.
I feel the waves in my veins destroying me.
But I'll tell you I'm ok.


Tears are salt water
they relive the storm, allow the waves to crash-
but I don't have enough to show.
The walls are high, turning to sand but I can't let go.


I don't ask for assistance,
I don't rely on others to sand bag against the rolling sea-
and yet my hand tries to stretch out,
the only barrier is me.


I am 99% ocean and 1% human.
I am drowning from the inside.

imagery

In front of me,
white-blank-endless possibilities.
Yet, to fill the emptiness I need ideas. I need thoughts.
I need to know where I'm going next.
It's hard to know where you're going when it's endless-
space for any future.

here I could make a boat.

Wide stern, made of polished wood.

a sail boat, elegant, slicing through the cool waters.

the sail pregnant with wind, pink in the early sun.

turn your face to the sun,lose yourself in the spray.

here is a boat.

And here, here is fresh bread.

the crust smooth, buttery, and warm.

inside the bread is a porous world of air.

every bite is light and filled with a home.

created now, in the nothingness is bread.

But here, here can I create me?
5'6" with ever changing hair
 eyes that are not 100% of one color.

Here-

can I bring myself to life here?

spunky, wild, and ever moving.

Or maybe I am here?

maybe this is my spot.

though I don't quite fit.



do I sand down my edges?

erase some lines-recreate connection?



it's easy to create a boat.
floats into the brain.

bread is easy to imagine,

often shown on TV.

but me?

how do I create me?