There’s always a storm,
Always a tsunami hitting the shores of my mind,
Destroying the cities I build,
And its ideas.
My mind is chaotic,
The current and waves are never calm and the troubled waters go deep,
Deep into my soul,
Reaching out and spilling out into confused words.
I give the pretence of “I need space”
But all I really need is space away from me,
Away from the constant of a storm.
I don’t like the sea,
Its waters are untrustworthy,
Its biodiversity, an enemy to the frailness of conceptions and beliefs.
I prefer the land,
But I’ve never landed on the ground,
I’m always flying too close to the sea,
Yet too close to the sun.
So my fingertips get pruney and my skin burns,
Always in a constant storm,
Between air and water,
Lightning and waves,
Land and ocean,
Between Myself and I.
