i am always carrying your name under my tongue, in that small place under my tongue and i don’t think i’m ready yet to loosen my lips and let you slip out and leave me forever because thats a scary thought, thats a **** scary thought. I’d be more comfortable cutting off my own arm or going blind or being spat into the middle of the ocean because that’s just physical, that means nothing, i have another arm, and i have my memories, and i could probably swim enough to reach some kind of island or strip of land or even just let nature take control and pull me into the arms of the big blue babe and she’d kiss me and show me her shiny shells and dead bones of fish collected in piles on the floor and i’d live down there forever and i would crawl out of my weight and leave it in a collected pile on the floor and i’d float through the air and i’d breathe deeply full of water and i’d be water and she’d be water and we’d be water and it wouldn't matter if i love you or if i’m just afraid because i’d be water and you’d be bones and blood and brains and i’d just be water, and you can’t confuse water with anything else but water but bones and blood and brains are messy and thick and runny and easily confused with things like spaghetti and red paint and death and i want to be water. clear and unmistakable.
but i’m not water, i am also bones, and i am blood, and i am brains, and i’m not one bit clear.
