an old poem i just found:

when i wake up, there is a sound like a just-lit match;
big enough to swim in, but not enough to drown.
i am surrounded by the whirring and whistling
of being alive in spite of myself.
i am tangled in a lifeline i never asked to be thrown -
send me your anchors.
i'm ignoring your flares, their flames unwanted
as i search for the sound of a just-lit match -
this life is an ocean;
big enough to swim in, but not enough to drown.