Anchors and Oceans

School is school was school will be school

books are meant for reading, will be read, have been read, will be read

people will leave

something to stay

lately my nightmares wake me up early

sleep returns me to somewhere

I know that I too will die, but I also will live

have lived

will remember living

I see scars in front of me that are left in memory

I don’t know when they were made, or when they will open

a first time, like a first bite of an apple that

I have

already bitten

Honestly, there is no confusion if you consider wool

but humans like strings that extend into a line

tied to everything, a sequence

but how can I live if I

can’t see

living

I leave my anchor on my stringed chain

I float in a fuzzy ocean

I fish for those who I thought I left at home, and I find them

again

and again

and again

What was most shocking was that they may not bob with the same face

but that too another drop