she sat on a rock, which was odd as the rock was in the middle of the water, sticking up like the angry finger of poseidon, with her, sitting majestically under the full moon as if this barnacle crusted stone was a throne, carved from bones of sea itself
Disdain? Yes, perfect word for the way he looked out onto the world. He was done waiting for a perfect thing to happen to him. He saw the dark that covered him and he realized he wasn’t alone. It covered everyone. Now he saw the difference between himself, them and reconstructed sidewalks, something ancient entombed him. IF, and that was a big if, there was anything that could save him from the clear doom, he had never met her.
the moon, not the moon in the sky but the moon in waves, the distorted reflection of a dead satellite that was little more than a reflection itself, seemed grossly dismissive towards her sighs drifting along in misery laced contusions along the shore
His dreams though, that’s where he wasn’t able to live up to his apathetic potential. He wanted to though, damn it. He wanted to shape them, form them, make them obey since he wasn’t able to sleep in his void. But those times he found himself lost in sleep and single syllables of nighttime escapes, there was a song. Whispers signifying hope and a stir in his groin. And then he’d wake up shielding his eyes from some burning far off light, cursing the suns rays and the ocean echo.
the world was an accumulation of discarded shells and casual indifferences, some days she only saw the ugly in her saddened state of artificial atrocities, was there more to this incessant slapping waves, the cold seaweed tangling around pale shriveled toes, she watched as the stars blinked out, one by one across the sky
He wasn’t searching anymore. Those days were long gone. The chafing scars of temporary affection drained the life. How many times can you soar, crash and then burn from a million Instagram hashtags seasoned clasped tightly with a lack of love? Those dirty little poems hung like rotten fruit on a demon possessed vine.
she murmured lullabies to the dreams she would never have a chance to dream, nonsensical things that drifted across the waves, foolish whispers from poets to fools floated in the lulls between verses that made her look up from her fierce inner gaze
He spent mornings writing sadness and frightening lullaby’s and afternoons wondering why the pages wouldnt turn anymore. Evenings were flesh things, cigarettes, whiskey and seaside strolls. His heart beat differently on the night he saw her, honey-hair whipping around her face and humming something he couldn’t quite make out. Knowing how tricky reality can be, he saluted his imagination and made his way home.
her heart beat differently on the night she saw him, unsure of his illusion or her own fleeting disillusion, his words hovered, naked and bare, try as she may they turned to moths that fluttered off to the lights of tomorrow’s today
The tide was outgoing and had receded so far it was as though the entire sea floor was exposed. She had moved to a new rock and he saw the path clearly in front of him. “Well why the fuck not?” he thought as he took his first step. He could hear that song, the one from his dreams and he shook his head slightly. He felt close, so close. Close enough that he almost believed she was real. He looked up but the glare was too much and he shut his eyes tightly. Her hair began to gently cover his face and he felt it fall over his arms in a sweet embrace. As violent waves of loves destiny washed over him, cracking and shattering melancholy thoughts, he knew he was entering another world. As her lips left her siren song across his neck, he smiled and was welcomed home.
it was as her mouth tasted the salt of the sea, the salt of his sweat, the sweet scent of surrender, that she welcomed him to sit beside her, as the waters poured back across the silt of a hundred thousand wishes made on falling stars for one singular instant of sweet devotion such as this
They said it was suicide, two people said they watched him do it, he just walk into the ocean. And never came out. Of course there were rumors, one said he was with a girl on the rocks too far to have swam to, another said they thought they heard him singing. They all agreed they’d never seen a tide come in so fast before.
EC is my definition of beauty in this world