12

195 9 46

by acatalepsae

by acatalepsae

"it must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself. but i keep swallowing what i thought was air.
i keep finding stones tied to my feet."

and i belong to the beds of the pacific ocean- supper for famished piranhas, algae in my ears; i should be milk bones and baby teeth, soft skin and torn tissues, but no-

i keep facing the abyss of blues as the lovelorn mediterranean sun kisses tumour cells into the crevices along my spine, "mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu".

he wails, he howls, he prays and he swears- "mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu".

now there are gills buried and sprouting from the crook of my neck- was it me? was it you?

my body- my body you called a pyratheia or an ashtray for the vanilla cigarettes you chewed into pulverized stars. i could not remember for sure.

my body.

mine.

yours(?)

maybe the algae in my ears had danced her way to my frontal lobe, tethering the crimson edges of my mind with lovely green ribbons- clouding my judgment. as if the puffs that crawled down the warmth of your chapped lips had not done the task already.

perhaps it was the blindness, i'm turning, don't you see, mon amour?

a fish-man- so only shall i see through those fish eyes burning ugly holes in my mind.

it was all the sun's fault.

it was all the sky's fault.

it was all the water's fault.

but you see, mon amour- i could never blame the soils of the earth.

for i have missed her between my toes. i miss the dirt underneath my nails and the earthworms that fed on my brain- i need to swim to the shore, but- i writhe.

the stones, mon amour. i can't untie them- my bone-thin arms had long abandoned me. the strong tides of the waters had pulled them apart. limb by limb.

i have fins- the tides had stitched them into the seams of my ribs, beautiful in oranges and apples but you see, mon amour- i can't swim. i never learned-

i was always too busy drowning.

drowning.

and drowning.

but not anymore. the waters had painted scales across my peach skin so i can survive.

and so you see- i was never the water, nor was i the land or the skies.

i was simply a daughter of the earth and all the land and skies and waters that painted my mother in blues.

i was simply-

a god, a god, a god.

inspired by "swallowing earthworms" by fighues