sinking in shallow waters

You stand ten toes deep in waters near hip height. A surge of discomfort registers in your body. Slow sensations shimmy up your spine. The water is calm. You're the only predator here. But that is the worry. There is no buzz, no bass, no tide, no current, no rhythm to tickle you. 

Hunching over, your body looks for solutions. Fingers frolic on their own begging, pleading for seconds of that sweet nectar. Your arms wade through the water reaching for shiny objects with promise. Something catches your eye. The momentary glint from a coin on the seabed so you crouch down to pick it up. 

You feel the wear and the ridges on this coin. The slight grooves reward those desperate fingers. But it's only a coin. Wet metal covered in porous sand. Everyone keeps saying you should touch grass, feel the real world, but what is this murky coin supposed to do?

You pull yourself back up. Well, that was a waste of time. You'll take those hollow laughs over this wet mess. At least, those short-form videos lift you up before they leave you in the void. You crave those text threads of pity LOOOLs and illegitimate "lmaooos" with asses seated and unshaken. 

Nothing to scroll. Nowhere to hide. It's you and you.

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