Sunday, May 12, 2013

I went inside the ocean by myself. It was really cold like the temperature you think that could be used to torture someone. I liked how cold it makes me because after a while, one by one, each of your limbs stops going against it. It feels nice to be in something that isn't so easy to fall into. the water has to hold its patience long enough for you to walk into it. I like to walk slowly into the water. I also like to jump into it. I like not knowing her. I was in there for an hour looking straight ahead and her body is always settling into itself and returning back to her. I wished I could have that longing pulse that the ocean has living inside her- as if every crash against the shore is her trying to shed her own skin.
I don't understand her so I have to keep ripping her open.
I like to rush into her like we’re friends that haven't seen each other in a while. I think its nice to smile back to the ocean. I don't exactly know what its trying to tell me but I know that when I smile it knows that I know something it doesn't know as well and we play. her water kept pulling me and shoving me back and forth and I jumped into them so they could hit me as hard as they can and I fell a thousand times and it felt like I was eating up some part of life that doesn't get dragged across my lap as much as it should everyday.
the more sun you get at a time, the bigger the pulse of your heart is when you recognize it in your life. I know the ocean’s presence but I want her to figure out the linings of my body.
I want it to part my arms and legs and find the exit out of my concrete skin.
I want the water to breathe inside of my throat. I want to become her.
I want her to eat the parts of me that will long for her when we are both alone after all this has occurred.
I wonder if there is as much a reflection of me inside of the ocean, as there is of it, inside of me

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