Stranded

I went up river in a canoe. I had no paddles. I was all thumbs. I scuttled her in the foothills; the valley air chokes me. I tried to drown but was too resilient. I foraged for food. I made water from jumble ice in my seasoned stygian skillet. I tried to sleep through it all but became resistive to the valerian root. I’m no Rip Van Winkle. I’ve lived this way for 1,080 days. . . I live this way still. . .