fuck man i'm trying to get back into it. if i were to title this, it would be ominously so: THE LAKE

mother nature always takes the fairest ones. the sweetest in some way prettiest ones. the ones with soft voices and gentle mouths. mother nature always takes the fairest ones, and i don't blame her.

i don't blame her one bit. but what am i to do? standing here holding this photo. always holding this photo. holding it like i've held it over and over again. getting drunk on whiskey like i've been drunk over and over again. it's a night like this, and i'm doing it over and over again.

i never saw it but i picture you hanging. suspended. chains running straight from your gut to the sky. was there a hook? did it hurt? now your heart is turned to the gods; it always belonged up there. will they know that like we do? i think no evil. i am humble, and quietened.. you are sleeping just south of heaven. i can't blink. i can't breathe. my vision tunnels, and i struggle to keep watching: your back is arched and your arms are hanging, your fingers skim the water. i can almost hear the sockets in your shoulders straining. arms were never supposed to bend that way.

i never even saw it, but it's all i see.

and this photo. this wretched photo. this hallowed bullshit portal back to you. i still can't see you in the frame. i can imagine your grin and the way your skin swallowed up the sun, but i can't see you in the photograph. there is no definition, no true outline. there is nothing that shakes me, nothing that makes sense to me. maybe because my eyes have given up on anything but white space. they've given up on everything. i am empty of faith of trust of love and i am clinging to this photo like it's my last chance at today.

it is hard to say whether this is a photo of you. it is hard to explain how it is a photo of you. the date that screams liar from the bottom corner, the very bottom corner, that date is one day after your death. and they shake their heads like i'm old and i'm drunk and i'm mad and say, 'but how. how is this a photo of her?'

i tell them to look. i scream at them and wail, my voice breaks. just look and you are there. beneath the surface. it is hard to explain how it is a photo of you. but i put my finger where i think you may be. right near the bank, you know? 'cuz you woulda struggled to get out. you woulda struggled to get back to this. an eternity of this. an eternity more of this. over and over again.

i point there. right near the bank. and i say, that's where we lost her. that's where she drowned.

over and over again. i'm looking at the white space and all they see is some mad old drunk.