I heard when a shark stops swimming

it will drown and realized sitting still

here in my own life, on this muted, sagging couch,

scrolling my phone, the television blaring, I am grasping

for air beneath the choices I make.

Even happy that I am

Not tying my shoes,

or the morning air still swirls about without

me breathing it in,

the tree leaves sway solitary missing my

thoughtful gaze.

I settle further into that couch,

the stress of papers and relationships

submerge me,

and  carry me away from the light

realistically still in my grasp.

Not even waving but drowning,

or clinging to a ray of hope

that might save me

but slowly, resignedly

dropping down, unmoving, slumping still

the dangerous creature I am,

sinks to be with the other lifeless

beings below

thinking all the while

I should just

keep moving

forward.

 

Hour One