i’d be shattered if someone took this from me…
this permission to stand at the edge of the world where the ocean hisses through its cracked teeth and spits the sky back in shards. the wind here doesn’t caress, it interrogates. it drags its nails down my cheeks like it’s trying to scrape off the polite version of me. salt seeps into everything, even the half-healed bits i pretend aren’t still bleeding.
you can’t own this place. can’t trademark the way chaos hums through the air like an exposed wire. the ocean laughs at anyone who tries. it’s laughter that smells like iron and rot and memory. try to bottle it, you’ll end up drinking ghosts.
every time i drag myself down here, i swear the dunes are taller, the gulls meaner, the waves louder in their judgment. i stand there, sand stuck to my ankles like regret, and i remember.
solitude sits beside me, pretending to smoke a cigarette. the ocean just watches. that kind of knowing look only something ancient can pull off. it’s not comfort, it’s recognition.
like it’s saying: i’ve seen what you’ve buried, and i’m not done digging.