your musk smell

Salty water and you're dipping into liminality.

Drum work and familiar beats - turning - upturning -
re-rooting

growing into something -

but

nothing grows in salt water.

You drown if you have too many rocks in your pockets.

If you go too far, there is no coming back

Release those hot rocks

down
down
to earth.

Salt water and a mixture of bone and blood.

bread.
honey.
rosewater.

they murmer incantations at dusk,
they sprinkle salt in the corners of the household,

poo, poo.

Indulko Grande: The grand sweetness.

Invite, invite, and then politely ask to leave all that is not worthy of your attention.

Salted water
is everything
our tears,
our sweat,
the ocean.

And didn't I tell you dear one, that you are the ocean?

I believe in the dripping wetness and the entirety of that old tale.