fern with a v
Cut the music, roll the credits, do something to give this a grand end. I don’t want it to be embarrassing, no implosion or dissolving without even leaving some pennies behind. I need at least a quarter but preferably a hole in the ground. A crater bigger than any house I’ve ever stepped foot in. But it has to be beautiful, too. Somewhere in a field or in the mountains. I need to make a hole in the center of a mountain. I’ll core the appalachia that’s what I’ll do. Now that’s an ending, not the one deserved but the one I imagine. I need something I can sink my teeth into, or rather something I can feel through the soles of my feet. I need something that’s not just happening in my own head. I’ve had enough of my own head, clouded to the point where the grey mass becomes clarity to me. A real blue sky would kill me, you know that right? Living alone when I can feel others grabbing at my shoulders. I try to generate wind, words, something to clear the air. Something to make a hole with. Something like a meteor big enough to tear through the rockies. Something to knock me on my back and make me laugh through cracked teeth. Something. I’m tired of needing something. I’m tired of something that I can’t help. I’ll get there one day and I’ll curl up in on yourself and I’ll do something. I can promise that much.
I’m losing track of us now. I’m counting up our bodies and coming back with a different number every time. My fingers have gone blurry and my brain has gone soft. Molting requires me to multiply my attention, I can’t just let the skin roll off of my back. Multiply my attention and keep one of my two eyes on every body and half body that’s behind me. It’s work and it’s care. I Became for this.
I’ll see you there. Yes, I will or at least I’m hoping I will. I hope I’ll see you with color under our skin and light behind our eyes. I hope our heart starts beating like it used to and the feeling comes back to our fingers. It will or at least I’m hoping it will. The water has been feeling warmer lately or maybe I’m just getting used to the cold. I’m too good at getting used to things, I can’t tell what I really want anymore. It’s not so much a kindness as a desire for ease. Ease is priceless, you know that much. Ease is worth more than any other substance in the world. And care is it’s opposite.
I faced three mirrors in on each other and it built your body. I saw you standing there in front of me, outside of me and made of light. I think you were beautiful, are beautiful. I think seeing you then like that is the only reason I’m here like this. I have this hole in my chest, I just need to find three mirrors that fit in that cavity. I’ll make a triangle in my chest and fill that hole with light and the weight will come back to my bones and my feet will finally hit the floor again. My hair will grow again and my bones will deteriorate. My body will match the clock after- well, how long is a year really? I can’t keep track. I ran out of fingers counting my bodies and measuring mirrors. I’ve just been floating. It’s work. I want to find a way to land this.