Some things are blurry,
others mark themselves with specifics.
He reaches his hand into my sleep,
he insists on pulling me from dreaming.
When is the anxiety going to end?
My body leans toward the beach, my body leans toward the ocean, I don't
need to go toward the water, just sit near it, just move toward the sound.
My dreams are a list of the ocean.
The trying to sort the thing out.