The cold
It drowns me
It comes in waves
Drawing you further from the shore with every acceleration
It separates until it’s inescapable
Until it’s irrevocable
And the more you resist it, the further it pulls you in until you suffocate under the unbearable weight of its burden, like being tugged to pieces by subaqueous sirens or beggars grappling for bread
These thoughts come in violent billows
They’re cold
They can flood sanity
On a Tuesday the blazing sun may appear
And the sound of the velvety waves may sound like a joyful ensemble of memories, a symphony of peace
May even appear soft and nurturing
A sedative by which I beg for salvation
It’s a disaster in disguise
By dark
The water starts raging
The ground turns indiscernible
The depth amplifies the fiend in the heart
The noise gets so thunderous your eardrums adjust to its rhythmic vibration
It gets so lightning you can feel them exploding with every infinite second
My thoughts feel like the shore at 6 pm dusk
Placed on a perpetual loop
Never too sunny, and despondent enough to predict the tsunami
Seconds away
No serenity of mind, a constant anticipation in trepidation
A lifelong wait for the water to take me away to the horizon, as the sky gets bluer, and the familiar
cold becomes tolerable, almost natural, the water goes still and silent, you no longer feel the famine
and sickness, you simply run deep.
