luftmensch
“Sometimes I have thought I was lonely and it turned out I was in reality wanting a snack, just like sometimes I have thought I was mad and it turned out I was actually wearing too many sweaters.”
wednesday is the tide going out. pulling back. the mud slops at the edges of barnacle-clad rock where mollusks secret themselves in the wet earth. heartbreak sounds like waves, rising and dropping downwards—clapping. pain becomes a necessity, like breathing. the unbarable is believable. time couched in the face of the moon. sliver and coin, my currency is secrets. the midweek woes of one whose despair is stacked as small angular stones. precarious. almost art, almost.
wednesday is the tipping point. i hit to feel things break between my palms. i need the contact to remind me that i’m close to reaching the center. birds feed each other bits of protein, beak to beak. i climb out from beneath the bed to heat cream at the stove with coffee i packed from Geneva. mourning rituals of each species. why do you tease me? is it adoration or cruelty you bait the hook by? I feel the distinction, yet, with every sip of black milk i misremember what it is to be in beauty.
wednesday is the tide going out. i paint my nails blue and write letters in the sand with my toes to recollect the sensation of joy. surrender is a swimming pool of salt and suntan lotion, sailboats bobbing in the wind. sand on my tongue and my hands pulling the water back, back, back.
Photo source.
