It is spring in seattle and my skin is crawling, I am always freezing all over.
Tomorrow I leave for Thailand.
I am going to bury myself in the sand and stay there.
I am going to stare at the sun and cry.
What to do with this body? It carries heavy sandbags of sadness inside it, I try and untie them and drop them off the side of the bridge
I wanna hear them splash and sink into the water below.
fish can eat those things.
It always goes like this-
from EVERYTHINGeverything Everything
to
just me,
with all these ridiculously heavy bags
6 months is a long time like this
one year is a long time
27 years is a long time
being in a body
am I still fresh? Will I get tastier or spoil?
It's strange that this flesh is alive, it wont just rot, it's living and existing on its own, regardless of my thoughts about humanness, being inside a body, feeling more like a terrible dream with three million confusing characters, made up of stories, none having bodies...
it will still grow, age, be a body in all sorts of body like ways
and inside I can feel like a sheet of paper
crumbled and blowing along a fence
just wind and dust paper sounds.
I will bury my body in the sand
I will close my eyes and turn to paper
No comments:
Post a Comment