There is a genuine wish in the drowning heart
to give up the fight.
It wars with the silent squalling hope that is
the need to survive.
The ambient white noise of her head is fading,
letting in the outside world,
and it is a painful thing, to drown here, to let yourself be overwhelmed
by all its noise
and messy dissatisfaction.
You can’t escape,
if you are in the here and now, and for some of us,
you might as well be drowning;
you’ve never learned to swim in something like this.