by Joke Marfsky 4 months ago in art

A follow up to Pacific Petrification.



It’s funny to find myself here,

Again. Where the wind meets the waves.

Where the salt water licks my sun drenched sweat stained scalp.

Where the air has always breathed bitter and coarse, where the wispy winds slice like jagged glass.

This is the same place. Where empires have been built. Where empires have fallen. Where enlightenment has been clarified and sanity got lost to the tide.

The precipice of the abyss. Beachside. Coastal. Black waves lapping up against my soleless feet. Buried beneath the anxiety, the sand swallowing my legs.

It’s a place where the salt dances in the skies around us visibly. Glinting like glitter in the sun, floating like the dusty particles lingering in the air of a smoky room.

There’s a reason I keep coming back here. Regardless of the salt-sting of the sandy beach. The solemn semblance of being alone. Leaving my brittle bones to erode on their own. I wanna be pretty like the microscopical cut glass of the sea.

Because where there is a tide, there’s a righteous moon. A grateful pull to the direction i wanna move. Full amongst the night sky, high on the horizon, weighing heavy on the heave heading full force towards the heavens. It’s all we breathe.

This is succumbing to a more beautiful truth. Taking a pull from this bottle we share, a rip off this bone we rolled, licking the hard white sugars off of our soft silk skin; we are lingering on the precipice of tomorrow’s yesterday’s, all while holding our breath. Because this tingle on my spine started in my tongue.

And now this acidic burning is tearing through my lungs on some form of hell bent revenge. Pulling me deeper into the night. A place riddled with starlight. I dream that my life ends on the verge of some dramatic firefight, because

As clear as the darkness always weighs the heaviest, you appear. You aren’t the waves. You aren’t the moon, or the tide, or some other drawn out metaphor. You’re just there. Out here on the same beach as I am in the middle of the night.

I’d say there’s some semblance of fate or luck that has blessed me on this rare of evenings, where I find myself here, where you come to face the emptiness of the loneliness and the vastness of feeling so small amongst the crashing waves of cascading water molecules that bless you with their graces as they wick across you.

I, who haven’t been able to remove my eyes from you, despite the ocean, the stars, the moon, and the abyss that bindsthem; witness you—you who at this moment acknowledges me, also here. Also on this exact beach at this exact moment on this exact part of the night.

Like staring into a clear pond, we’re mirroring each other. With firm clarity and delightful whimsy and grace. I know I want to wave, but there isn’t enough courage within me to pull such a move. But you do, and then the wave turns into a more inviting gesture. The anxiety melts and

Without hesitation, I make my way towards her. Seemingly serene, the anxious paranoia is no longer a thing. The midnight vocals scrapping along the inside of my mind, subside as your voice begins to rise amongst the rushing water.

She speaks and the ground beneath me shakes free. Loosely breaking apart as the night swallows me whole. Delving into myself, reality falls back into place around me as I wake up. Still groggy and bubbling from the vibes of the night before.

Joke Marfsky
Joke Marfsky
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Joke Marfsky

NE poet. 26. Aspiring filmmaker. Bartender by trade. Mentally inverted metro-pan/asexual. 

📷@jk.marv 🐥@marfsky

See all posts by Joke Marfsky