have you ever been in a swimming pool during a thunderstorm? tilted your head a perfect 90 degrees and split yourself at the surface?
your ear pillowed against thick and slimy silence pressed - oh so close and careful and gentle against your cheek burrowed up your ear canal, moulded to you freezing cold and, like, really sorry for it the sting of the chlorine too soft to count as pain or any sensation at all
bent towards the static of the sky the flick and trace and trickle of each drop of rain as it waits, with a patience you never had, to run down the slope of a jaw and pick at the seam of your lips would you notice the few which tasted of salt?
do you cut your head in two or do you open both eyes at the same time? and hope to try to learn to see something at the cost of your cornea at the cost of your comfort at the cost of your coherence
i don’t know about you but i’ve always found it a little too easy to ignore the pull, chalk it up to vertigo in the end it’s all just water at the contour of your flesh