it is…it was

We are endless, adrift with nothing but bottomless seas, with an infinite
succession of waves; all dark, numb feelingless tombs rolling over;
falling on us, sliding over and on top until there is naught to see
but sea …and the sea is us…us organized like patches of moss
on the bark of dead trees, intricately apposed, undeniably attracted
bent on self-destruction while fighting to survive, we float on
never knowing if the waves are who we are, or who we could be
we are silent and screaming as loud as the wind. Arguing against
our own best interests because, in this sea, our thinking is underneath
us keeping our heads up while being so heavy that it drags us downward…
we scream with mouths full of black water, with eyes blurry white from
the chlorine of mass media…an endless sea of shame we gladly
swim in, live in and watch the remaining bits of who we were float by,
us counting the seconds to gauge the current speed…5 knots…10 knots
toward an oblivion we can only hear/feel; a background hum, a grey
sensation of inevitability as we swim, as we drown, as we watch all
and none…the black waves like marching soldiers toward a horizon,
we can’t see only believe in, we count them until we run out of numbers
…this is our lives, our understanding without knowing, knowing
without understanding but that is the sea: it is…it was…it always will be.

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