We were not born on ships like these
but solid land
and I am still not used to the way the
ground quivers underneath my feet
with every step I take.
I find myself stuck in one place.
I am still not used this sensation
in my stomach
that I am constantly falling.
This imbalance.
This feeling that my body is standing
over here but my head
is floating over there
across the room
and I’m getting so dizzy but
I can’t cross the room because
I’m falling.



We were not born on ships like these
but sometimes it feels like
we were.
Sometimes it feels like
we’ve been here all along—
too long. I’ve been here too long—
Are we melting or drowning?
Dissolving.
Time passes so slowly when you’re
the only ones out here. There’s nowhere
to go in this swollen abyss.
I’m listless and boneless
and I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

I don’t know how much longer my lungs
can survive on emptiness and white wails
instead of oxygen.
I don’t know how much longer my brain
will be able to stand standing still but
never actually being able to stand still before
combusting.
I’m going crazy, don’t you understand
that?
I was not built for this—
Is that you or the waves singing?
I was not built on ships like these.
I am not strong enough to withstand these
cyclopean oscillations
beating against my skull,
hammering my kneecaps,
rattling my rib cage.
That’s not wind; that’s insanity.

I never hear silence anymore.