at the lagoon,
there is a granite floating fortress
passing this chaotic apathy
hugging me
the way my ribcage should
feel air climbing each of its staircase steps
because at this point, my lungs are asleep
on the idea that my heart knows what the fuck is going on
the road isn’t a straight line or even the zigzag i drew knowing
how this will soon turn out
in the end, will i still look back and point out why
things are so different now,
but not even see how
my brain is a separate being from me
and that she
can be somewhere
in the middle.