The grains of my white ceiling cast shadows from the light at 4.12 in the morning

A car goes by and yet another.

I should say it

but no.

A taste lingers in my mouth, one of a secret sunrisesunset, I would never tell.

Over the calm waters,

I row away on my boat into new light --

-- faint

My window blinds are up.

The only light now is from the glares of headlights and lampposts that end half a kilometre away.

My pulse slows to the drumbeat of this song

A wooden seagull laughs at the faded square on my ceiling.

A small glow from below my door. I wake to saltwater in my hair.

A new day.

There is dread.

I feel another panic attack --

-- faintly reminiscent of a lost past and dead futures.