in a sea of my own thinking,
the turbulent waters over my head
I might drown.
The only thing that will get me out
is the same thing that got me in–
my mind and the stories it tells.
I sit, even though it feels useless,
a sham, futile, heavy.
I sit, and my mind continues
to churn with its turbulent thoughts.
I hear cars out on the wet roads
and the sound of my husband breathing.
Life goes on.