ash and clay

29th Jun, 2025

run outside after your friends and stand in the rain

it's wednesday night, or thursday, or something like that. You don't belong, and you've decided not to care

you are intruder, obstacle, inconvenience, and this one time you revel in it. You write it proudly across your lips

the water hits your face, stains your cheeks, strips away the coating of ash and clay

you watch as they dont understand. they dont quite connect. probably a lot like this poem right now. observed, but not understood

is this even a poem? if it is, does it even have meaning?

is that the point?

...

you listen to the rain outside. it is cold. your eyes wont quite focus.

you're aware of the life all around you. through every wall and window. the world breathes, and you breathe whatever is leftover.

you wonder how long it will take to feel real, this time.

you wonder if you want it to

you listen to the rain outside, and piece by piece your skin peels off to reveal more clay underneath. you will always be a creature of ash and clay, after all. interrupted only by those moments in the rain.

follow your friends outside again.