I miss the ocean more than anything. The ocean and the things that come out of the ocean, and the crash crash crash of waves, real waves, waves that catch onto your ankles and drags. I even miss seaweed and how it wraps itself around your legs, and sometimes it felt like mermaids, but mostly sirens, and they didn’t even have to sing to have me follow them. I miss salt. Sea salt that comes out of water, not into it. I have never liked my hair, my body as much, as when the sun has dried up every last drop, and I am covered in a fine layer of seaweed, salt, and sand. Sand for days. Is this where I say I almost drowned, once? I almost drowned, once and I still miss the sea. Waves of grain aren’t waves at all.

I miss the ocean more than anything. The ocean and the things that come out of the ocean, and the crash crash crash of waves, real waves, waves that catch onto your ankles and drags. I even miss seaweed and how it wraps itself around your legs, and sometimes it felt like mermaids, but mostly sirens, and they didn’t even have to sing to have me follow them. I miss salt. Sea salt that comes out of water, not into it. I have never liked my hair, my body as much, as when the sun has dried up every last drop, and I am covered in a fine layer of seaweed, salt, and sand. Sand for days.

Is this where I say I almost drowned, once? I almost drowned, once and I still miss the sea. Waves of grain aren’t waves at all.

(Source: artrepublic.com, via jpisaninsomniac)