My Life as Pi

It is cold outside.
The waves are terrifying when it is windy and cold.
Shivers run down my spine.
Soothing.
A salty, chilly lullabye.
Sleep tries to overtake, but I can't fall asleep.
If I fell asleep, I would go off course; how do sailors do it?
Already the sound of the waves become difficult on my ears.
Where are the birds? The sun? Companions?
It is only me.

On this enormous black ocean, with harsh, whitecapped, long fast waves. Cold salty air
Burns my lungs,
My sweater fails,
Spray soaks me through.

Twilight, and no land in sight.
Where am I?
The little angel says,
in your imagination.

well, then, I don't want to be here.

this poem was written while listening to some music that was mostly the sounds of waves on the ocean. the ending sentiments basically described my feelings by the time the music ended.
with regards to the title, it reminded me of the book "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel (which is an excellent book I recommend to all) and how Pi had to survive on the ocean and this is probably what he would hear all day.