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Our Bodies Become the Ocean Floor
Mayfield
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I spent my childhood looking up to the mountaintops.
Now as I return, I feel an inner burn.
I miss those family trips we took;
passing by the inukshuk's by the coast.
I want to feel the water.
Let it seep into my pores.
I want to feel the oceans mist amongst the air.
Lift my body with the wind, there's clarity within.
I've been stepping on broken glass my whole life.
Begging for an end to this hopelessness.
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Begging for an end
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This is where my cold blood began to run its course.
The overflowing streams,
a constant state of dreams.
A part of me still lingers in the elder maple trees, and I don't ever feel complete.
I want to feel the water.
Let it seep into my pores.
I want to feel the oceans mist amongst the air.
Lift my body with the wind, there's clarity within.
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There was once a time when I was young and full of life.
I felt alive.
Breathing in every single moment to capture the simple pictures.
The shutter closes.
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When the film runs out we become hollow vessels; skeletons dancing in the draught.
Our bodies become the ocean floor, left to be feasted on; creating life as we join the dead.
We will be joined with the dead.
Stay with me, embrace the end.
We suck the life out of everything we love,
Until we leave a carcass to be devoured by the sands of time and space.
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