Nazaal Shiyam — Water

Water

some days
I am water

I wake up, roll over
and
spill to the floor
i get up and slosh to the door
sleepily

on these days
I am smoke blown through a wireframe world
I am the morning mist rolling through a forest

when I walk
I flow
(like an upturned bottle of maple syrup)

If you touch the tips
of your finger
to my skin
and press
gently
I will give way

my flesh
my organs
my bones
even
my thoughts.

I move around everything
and
the things that I don't move around, 
move through me

a falling leaf
a deep sigh
an uttered scream
the distant tinkling of a newborns laughter

these things
move
into me and then exit my being
softly
pulling my edges away with them
then pulling back
in slow motion

on these days thoughts grow inwards
like
roots
reaching for the center
of my soul
for sustenance

nothing outside touches me
nothing inside will be touched

the matters of men
and
affairs of the world
lose their sting
and
I don't mean to say they cease
to matter
they just stop touching me
for
you can't touch something lesser than air

on these days
even though I stand
in front of you
face to face
making sounds and gestures
I am not here
I am facing away
from you
I am facing away
from
everything

If you re-examine the edges
of my being
closely
If you notice
the footsteps
and follow them
you will find
that they lead
two thousand miles
inwards
from every direction
to a lone figure walking alone
through a barren
soulscape
wearily searching
for something solid enough
to anchor
himself to

the laws of physics
state
that
water takes on the shape
of its container

I am Man-shaped

 

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