there’s a black and stormy sea,
that toils outside my window.
her dark waves broil and bubble
i feel her clawing up my legs.
she lives inside me.
i can sometimes feel her long
spindly, spider-like fingers
cold and wet,
seeping into my pores.
in my skin, down my throat.
i feel her gentle icy waves
slowly fill my heart like
a cup full of water.
“it’s okay,” she says “this is normal,” she says.
i don’t think this is normal.
i often find myself
beneath her night sky waves,
struggling to find the breath
that escaped from my blue lips.
at the bottom of her crest is
a pretty canary cage that she locks me in
and it’s not like i’m going to escape.
but i can try.
i just want to go home.
i just want to go home.
i don’t want to be here.
i just want to go home.

jen, Wisconsin