My Aquarium

My head, a full aquarium at night.
Each fish a thought.
They swarm and feast.
I reach in the fish tank
desperately yearning to grasp just one,
but, of course, it slips through
my worn hands, sorrowful.
I only wanted one.
Just one to quiet my head.
My aquarium is full of sharks.
I can’t help but bleed and be consumed.
I’m forced to imagine and
feel the lives I could have had.
Vivid details painfully felt.
I’m stuck lingering in moments of memories.
Every day a constant,
I wake and rest with a
hand constantly reaching into my fish tank.
My hand is numb. Tired.
I reach and reach,
and when I finally catch one, a fish,
the dripping mass of flesh and scales,
I notice that each one is dead.
I have always been.