Ocean Footage (May 2021) & An Old Narrative Poem via Me Crushing on the Sea (As Per Usual)

if only I could control the water —

know it,

master it

become it

as it has me

I would don the ocean

draped across my shoulders

a cloak

(billowing)

my own private train of truth,

storm,

and sea,

sweeping the ground

beneath and upon me

as if to cleanse the Earth

of its seven

(or several)    

sins,

extinguishing the flames

of my birth

my soul,

which wound me so

(wound me so tight,

so wicked)

internal inferno that destroys me,

searing my internalities

from the inside-out,

such that my organs are but

a trembling hill

of rock and soot

ruins not even capable of a mountain

pressing up against my flesh

as if to flee,

(escape)

tragic —

imprisoned |

waves of reassurance

(rebellion)

the sea as cloak,

me as an ocean…

if only I could control the water —

know it,

master it

become it

as it has me

still, I am but a servant

to this sagittarius summer

{born beneath some strange, July-November/December sun}

shoulders bare,

quiet being metal bronze

like some Ancient Empress

Of Sunflowers

and other such astoundingly mortal things

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