I feel like I'm on a boat.
I'm not (nor have I ever been) on a boat.

Of course I've been on a boat, but it's a more entertaining sentence, a pleasanter string of words to say that than "I have not recently been on a boat."

Because of how the rise and fall of being on a boat can make it so you later you feel like you are still on a boat.

"Because of how." Is it to be cute, or is it a struggle?

Ten days, doctor. Ten days. Tell me why I am on a boat so the other doctor can stop me screaming

Tether me to something or send me to space

I have in my hands now my grandma's gummy plastic pages and other photos of the orange 80s. My baby faces. My same faces. All the men had mustaches. My mother was the prettiest in the world. I still think so. Then, now; I have yellowed but I have not aged. Digitize me, correct my color, keep me pressed and precious.

There is a droplet of water levitating. Suspended by sound. It stays still.

I am seasprayed, and I don't know a good shanty.