Fog Warning

i don't live in the present as
it's too still.
I wander the wastes of seas
of ice and fog-horned melody.

I was raised on a foot-and-a-half;
between rich and never wanting-
inside as bad as anywhere I preach;
unwanted touch and pressure as my
head turns and turns and I hate myself.

I don't know what belief can call and save;
I watch and pray still til this moment-
half the battle they say is awareness and
I have plenty and I will survive and sort
this present heart.