A wave is all else in all ways.

In and out, back and forth,

and noisy,

much like a brain

I possess;

it is fatally bruising.

Rushes of torment

continuing to flood my conscious

cells

and then my body,

so severe—enough to reach the surface

of me.

I browse around in confusion,

seeking restitution.

Where is my recompense? Am I not meriting

of it?

I feel shortcoming, my brain

malfunctioning.

Wretchedness.

A critically damaged piece

of this world,

I am.

The despair worsens.

I am in a quandary.

How can I extricate

myself

from misery?

An intention was distant,

but it is approaching,

like a wave,

a distinguished form:

swifter and towering. It is dominant,

and it appears

to be exceedingly promising.

One departure shall be

glossed over, as many are.

This destination is favored

and has been reached countless times.

After all, what is near?

I feel an immensely powerful

tug

on my physicality,

as if I am being hauled

out

of my own self.

I am floating—levitating

in nothingness.

I entered outside inside,

into darkness, within an abyss.

The solution’s efficacy?

I need not know nor care.

A colossal adjustment

is to fathom and a transition

of authentic substance.

Soreness. An enormous migraine,

I feel, like neuralgia. But how?

My body

in my peripheral,

I presumed this to be…

superior

to life but have been buried

further into my despair.

Tsunamis have become my colleagues

They are so short but colossal;

coming and going,

passing through earth faster

than my archaic fingers can snap.

Like waves,

I float back into the ocean

and remerge with my origin,

my source

of agony.

I was in and out,

pulled back and pushed forward

Now, it is silent.