salty nights, bitter days // pt.2

I’ve traveled the world in my dreams.
But I always wake up in a pool of water;
Floating.
(stagnant)
The sting of salt and the bite of wind
Have become a comfort;
(a constant)
Because every night,
I realize I’m trapped
By the rush
Of white water noise in my head,
And the subsequent weight
Of empty harbors in my heart.
Because there is no ship
That will take me
where I want to go.
(anywhere but here)

— there is no home to build on a port with nothing to offer.