it reads like

It reads like guilt and
guile, like grief and
gloom, it reads
fast at first and slow in the middle
and I haven’t gotten to the end yet but
I imagine it just goes on like that,
like a ship launched in clear skies and
mired in storms, lost and lonesome and
wishing to return to port, circling around and
finding clear skies and smooth sailing,
and wondering if perhaps it’d be easier to simply go forwards –
circling around again towards the plotted terminus.
Weather-based indecision, or star-based,
or based on feelings masquerading as fact;
so yes, it reads like that
for now,
but I haven’t finished it just yet.