7 November, 2024
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What must it be like to be lost in space?
I imagine it to be something like

Lying in bed to the silence of the ceiling fan and my own breaths

Unable to find directions inside the belly of a hungry city

Floating through an impossible tangle of dreams, duties and desires
Days days days
Never-ending yet
Lightening fast

Watching from afar, through peepholes, people's lives – old friends, strangers, lost lovers
On some distant planet I do not inhabit
Or maybe I did once
Who know?

Gravity working in strange ways where my bones cannot carry the weight of this mind
Thoughts, trinkets and thoroughfares
Tomorrows tomorrows tomorrows

Searching for a tether
A dock
A message in a bottle telling me how to l̶i̶v̶e̶ leave the island
Or telling me
It knows I'm here
It knows my name