Trading Anchors

The headline read
"Prescott Valley man arrested
after trying to shoot moon with handgun" and I thought "I know the feeling man..."

It's been several-thousand-something days
since I first tasted oxygen
and it's become quite apparent that

none of us asked for human consciousness

but yesterday I flinched
when the car hit my shadow
and now I can't stop pinching myself.

I've been so caught up in the contest
and cliche ways to feign interest
and I think the voice inside my head
has ulterior motives
to my progress
but I was thinking...

If all I've ever been is a product
of my environment
then maybe it's time to scrub the mold.

I'm told my role is to hold tight
to the good things-
strive for ways to impress
those with different ideas of success
than me
but I feel like a child
jumping into puddles
I could drown in and too often
my instincts kick in.

It's never the option of
whether to sink or to swim.
It's deciding in time to live

and I've been hellbent on learning
how to backstroke.
I swore I'd have more to show for it by now
but the shore just glows with more garbage
every time the tide folds and

no one seems to know how to float anymore.

We're all just trading anchors
till we find something worth drowning for
and my God
my sorrow isn't it.