Motion Sickness

Motion Sickness
by Keaton Foster



In a pond
A puddle
In a stream
I muddle
Repeated
The dream
An ocean of belief
In a sea of questions
Yet to be answered
I’m asking myself
I’m asking all else
I’m alone
On a boat
With no captain
Nor crew
There is just this
Sick indeed
Waves crash aside
Rocking me around
Tossing me about
I stand for myself
Falling for all else
On the floor
Looking up
Seeing truth
Minute
The second
I wish to believe
Creatures deeper
Are waiting
They know
What I don’t
White the waves
Blue the folds
The sounds
Falling around
Reminding me
You are alive
In the middle
Weirdness
Whittled
Deeper depths
Sadness regressed
Falling down
Sinking around
Leaks have sprung
Too many holes
Must be plugged
The pressure
Greater inside
Then out
Maybe I’m sinking
Maybe I’m going
To a realm of those
I feel most akin to
Waiting to feast
Leaving a world
Of other people
Already eating
Chewing at my soul
Gnawing
At these bones
Substance is gone
All that remains
All the I am
All that I seem
Putrid refuse
Death will be mine
A welcomed time
But before I go
Before I sink
Further
Into myself
And all else
I can’t help but to think
Of my dreams
My questions
And lack of answers
What do I know
What will I never
Again
I must persist
Am I ready to go
Or am I meant to remain
Regardless of state
Or the fate of my vessel
Must I journey on
No land in sight
Only deeper seas
In darker oceans
Blackness unbound
By my unique view
Brought on
By an inability to reside
In a pond
A puddle
In a stream
I muddle
Repeated
The dream
An ocean of belief
In a sea of questions
Yet to be answered
Down I could go
Floating
My only hope
Am I stone
Or am I porous
Alive
Something else…



Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2021