The boat goes over waves

And waves

And

W

A

V

E

S

Nausea

In my stomach

The smell of rum

Disgusting

Vomit on the floor

It’s old

Determined not to again

Creeping wind, a strong breeze, perhaps a gust, maybe a storm

Storms aren’t common on my side of the ocean

Further

Across the sea

Where are they taking me?

Creak_ _

A full on storm

Perhaps a hurricane

Shakes the boat

Up and down

Maybe a centimeter of water on the floor

Panic

The boat may sink

Never figured out

Where they tried to take me

Not my proudest moment

But tongue meets water

Salty

But not as salty as it could be

Not as salty as most seas

Pride myself in knowing the taste of each sea

But that almost makes it worse

Because suddenly

I know where they’re taking me.