A page of occasional scribblings and bibblings.
Georgie, to us.
GEORGIE. (self-aware) And as the wind blows in your ear
and the light illuminates some naked island
I come to you
I offer myself to the sea
I offer myself to the sound
because I am nothing
and you are nothing
and the wilderness would eat us alive if it had the chance
it doesn’t care that we’re weak and cold and starving
it doesn’t care that we are looking desperately for a way home
it continues, and continues without us, as it has done and will ever do
and as we lay here
warm and slowly dying
I can see nothing beyond the horizon in your eyes
and can hear nothing besides the wind living in your soft breath
and I think
you are like the wilderness
a part of me as much as one could be
and something from which I must struggle to escape
Puts away notebook. Shifts in place. Fog horn.
Anyway that’s my poem