It Wants To Drown Me, Too

It banged in the door when we first met,
somehow both louder and quieter
than you were.
It flattened you,
and you flattened me,
and that was just the beginning.

It poured Itself into the room,
as the unforgiving and unpredictable sea
we attempt to row on.

Some days we sink into Its depths
only to find that the depths are still growing
as It pulls us under.

Some days we are tossed and shoved and thrown about
by the angry storm always already on Its surface,
implacable and defiant.

Some days you are high and free of It,
and with the sea you'd rather not be bothered
as you are flying above and beyond us.

Days, and weeks, and months rolled in and out of focus,
as we meet in stalwart regularity,
and sometimes more often.

Uncertainty is the only clarity I've stumbled upon -
grasping only now that It is Chaos' star pupil,
Desperation, who has come to join us so often.
It's drowning you,
and drowning me,
and this is still the beginning.