The storm

The mud slows me down

As I try to squint at the small house

Sitting patiently on the horizon

It feels like someone is cutting threads

Inside of my head

The ocean turns in a circle

The eye of the storm

Snatching up debris

Until I find myself

In a calm dream

Where silence surrounds me

And everything else flies above me

And I try to scream

But even my voice is non-existent

The storm stops

Only when I touch your hand