another stream

the day is a march against the stream. I stumble on rocks or expectations into fears that know I am easy to find. the water is cold and I can't seem to forge a path through the reeds lapping at my ankles. thoughts pass with fallen leaves on the surface. I watch them drift out of sight and reach like reason or whatever once meant the world. in another stream they don't. in another stream I fight harder for the things that matter, to keep the language that connects me to the pulse of every teardrop borne from our primordial soup. in another stream I swim. but I am tired and this stream knows where it wants to go.

when I wake I find myself in the same stream and as far from my thoughts as before. a little less familiar every day. I feel the clench of the claws in my skull wring my brain in disbelief. desperation lingers from their grip into my pillow. I admire the ceiling fan for knowing what to do.