One step a minute.
Two minutes to think,
to remember, to worry,
to ignore.
One step a minute.
Forward.
Three immediately back.
In fear.
What do I fear today?
The water? Like always?
No.
I fear you.
That you wish to pull apart
my skin.
My skin put together with patches,
you beautifully sewed
to perfection.
My skin, you almost made real.
At the seams, you pull.
You pull hard but slow.
Clever, clever.
Like everything perfect,
this must be slow.
Agony must be slow.
Only noodles is instant.
I fear you.
As you slowly undress me.
You know what lies underneath.
I don't. I forgot.
I fear you. I hate you.
This skin was your gift
to me.
And now you want it back.
My lie, my lie, Ma.
Mine.
Why does she want everything back?
One step a minute.
And I look behind at the trail.
While you fade.
Quicker
than I can walk away from you.
One step a minute.
And the sea must swallow
all of me.
And vomit
in the morning.
Will you come back
to the beach? To collect
what is yours.
I owe you some dirt.
---
All things wither and Biprorshee