things never feel good unless they’re done right
and the alternative of not doing them
doesn’t actually exist
~
voyages are commenced more casually than perhaps they would be
if we knew just how many days we’d be at sea
~
there isn’t a whole lot of room for error
and somehow the course to chart is completely up to me
this is an impossible navigation
not least because the holes in my mind’s ship
are getting larger every day
i will keep sailing until whatever end;
i’m a survivor
but i’m not sure that i’ll ever have the option to thrive
nor of the west 