I’m not sure where this is going, or at what speed…

The grey sky and sea are one today.

The only discernible difference,

the texture of the latter.

The encumbrance of the matter

in mind’s funnel

distracts and disturbs.

Protracts and perturbs

still the distilling,

the stone at my neck

is blunt from the milling.

I ponder this song about addiction.

Another one I’m addicted to.

The frictionless sky

and the turbulent sea,

I sway between

the knowing way you look at me,

oh mind’s eye,

and the mystery of unease,

the sky gets me there so soon

compared to the past,

on the sea,

in a tempested moon.