my torso feels uninhabited. i don't know at what point at the beach it began, but it's here now, and here it will stay. i've been disgusted before. i've been loatheful, philanthropic, remorseful, tired, elated, and sad. it's now magnified ten fold, beyond my ability to comprehend what i'm feeling. my hands tremble for no reason, my skin burns and my lips are cracked and i taste iron and salt. the sores inside my mouth are of my own creation. i'm nothing but a faulty sore. docility is fraudulent within me. is it automatic? is it for my own good? is it instinctual? each second scrapes across my chest like sandpaper. i feel time taking its toll on me, feel it slowly siphon away any ounce of will i retained. im hollow, requesting any exertion is disappointing on both ends.
waves crash against my steady, planted body, and i wish they would dissolve the rotting features ive grown to despise as i despise time. to melt into the sea, to crash against the feet of the suffering and give them an alternative to standing as an emptied vessel. to take my form and the cavern of discomfort that rests alongside it. im near hysterics, just pondering the corporeal presence of my being. let me float away, let the water nip away at my flesh until im nothing.
let my body be.