This is a photograph of me shouting my obscenities.
Underwater, no one can hear you.
When did I come up for air?
Is a part of me still down there distorting, becoming something new?
The people that we used to be are waiting for us underneath, but if we dive into the black, when we surface we just come back alone.
Margaret Atwood I confess, I’m drowning like all the rest.
My lungs are slowly changing shape.
This is not a ship to sail, it’s the belly of a whale, and I know this time we can’t escape.
The people that we’ll be someday watch us sink beneath the waves, and when there’s only water left, I’ll kick my feet and hold my breath.
In the deep dark, we all go blind, and let the moon make up our minds.
Alone.