The Navigator of Swamps

Navigator of the swamps of my dissolving memory
Of actions once real and certain, sinking in the mud of oblivion,
Of mental frameworks and understandings twisted and cracked by fierce, hungry alligators,
Of past versions of myself now lost to the rising tie.
Navigator of hostile canals of overflowing, overshowing, overexalting stones,
And of traitorous trunks and roots astray of any visible coastline.
The boat has been hit on many occasions by perceptions that were false
And now has accumulated holes that allow the swamp water to seep into its core.
Boats are designed for floating, but not this boat.
This boat was made for sinking and being one with lost thoughts and ideas and emotions and versions of the self.
With so many holes in the swamp, there's no telling of how the navigator entered or how he plans to flee,
He may be trapped, for all that's known,
Lost in the ocean of delusion that is the memory,
Looking for something unfindable: old life that is gone.