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Ten Hurricaines- A Poem for Spoken Word

TW: Psychiatric Medication
I wrote this rough draft of a poem a few years ago for spoken word and never came back to edit it, but I really like it. To me, it represents finding the balance in my psychiatric medication and sort of losing myself by being over-medicated but losing my ability to maintain my relationships with people who matter to me by being under-medicated.
 
 
This is the time of day
When the oceans roar
The messy crash of salty waves is pain
But the tearful surge is the herald of my reward
 
They're coming back
My thoughts are riding on the clouds
Where I used to live
My wonderings crashing in the pattern of my name
 
Here comes the Storm
 
Boatless, I'm dead man's floating out to sea
Will I go into that hurricane?
Will I float until the waves lift me to the clouds,
Not into the eye of the storm, but in the swirling winds?
 
The swirling of that storm is where I once discovered lightning
The fury of those winds is what dropped the apple on my head
The center of that storm is a wormhole to another dimension
I'm not lost, but there I'd find myself again
 
I jerk around, the shore still is in sight
The world of land is already foreign and frightening
The world of clouds richer and more complete
I could float away, but for the figures standing on the shore
I miss my world, but I'd miss my humans more. 
 
- Ten Hurricanes, rough draft, by Zeke Goff
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