I AM SO TIRED.
So tired I cannot feel the ground beneath me. So tired I cannot see the horizon. What do you do when even the promise of rest feels like a lie? (Or worse—another task to fail.)
There is light, faint and trembling, on the periphery. A figure, impossibly tender, reaching out. I should rejoice. I should step forward. If only
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waking up with shattered glass in my eyes a frosted stomach a piece of the heart darkened a beautifully pierced shadow and the night still lingering laying in a gigant ocean-bed of infinite fleshy pounding hearts that will bloom with time …
– with an eternal attraction to the maritime. Her hands in the lukewarm water, caress the scalp and the wet hair of the person whose hair she is cleansing. Gazing out over the sea, – conchs and pirates, by-gone monsoons fill her soul with sweet sadness.