just swell

i live in an ocean with ideas like great crashing waves.

what a pompous way to say i can't keep a single train of thought without it being pummeled by the next into

oblivion into calming low tides.

i can't keep anything unless i write it down

and even that is a gamble i rarely win.

i have no priorities or maybe i have too many

it's hard to tell when each swell consumes its predecessor.

i'm trying to put myself to sleep with lullabies.

i'll pick a version of me and the parts of you i want to keep.

what do i want to keep?

i desperately cling to warm sands and sweaty juice boxes

but it's dark

and there are spiders crawling out of my beach bag and i don't know when they'll skitter over my skin.

why do i keep food for them in my belly?