October 27, 2010 - 9:56 p.m.
I am so rich that I must give myself away. (Egon Schiele) And I feel that swimming endlessly, directionless changing with the shimmer of other objects of the water glinting distracting and catching my eyes wander aimless and I am searching for breath beneath this surface trying to learn to breath without gills under water under this calm exterior I feel like I am losing myself, like a weight dropped and sinking towards the bottom fingers catching bubbles and air but not me I drowned myself in you looking for a life boat in you riding the tide and failing to see rock I am a fish out of water, wet but not swimming in my unnatural state gasping I let my fingers wind around the words that will pull me out sending out slapping sounds along the water hoping for some echo of return I cannot be angry, I beckoned you here with my siren song, hair tossed and tangled, thrown casually over my shoulder to reveal my pulse we bled together there, hot where the bodies intersect intersected sinking shivering with nervous ness locked into these thoughts I am reeling myself back in. You are oceans away and you are the reckless sailor, who knew how to want these eyes, misted and searching for shore, out of this element, I rose to the occasion but cannot walk on legs untrained. I stumble stumble stumble I will not let myself fall. Caught, my own keeper, like spiders, exempt and immune to their own web. I thought I knew this game, thought it was simply a teasing toe-calf-knee, submerged in water without the risk of drowning in three inches, three days and now two weeks, almost I will remember but I have, by caring recast the lure and come up empty fish and fisherman confounded. feeling hungry but unable to eat I will train these legs again and keep my lips a hushed whisper, learned and practiced of games and songs of the sea carried out, but never away, the undertow is me
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