If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t smile. I wouldn’t talk much. I’d be sitting by the beach all day, writing, quenching thirst with juice in the other hand. Bare skinned and in a swimsuit, lounging and dipping into the smelting hot golden sand. Letting my skin bake into the brownest that it could possibly get. If it were up to me, I’d have coconut oil in my hair soaking into each strand hungrily. Squinting my eyes and looking up, I’d watch the movement of the sun all day as it glides across the sky from east to west, or up and down… whatever it is that it does. Time would go as slow as it possibly could go. I’d stare into the face of the distant horizon, thoughtless and unafraid. If it were up to me, I’d have an ardent romance and risk it all. I’d just twirl in trance to the staccato echoes of the sea, ’till who knows when, aimlessly.
Listen sweet thing; I’m not very political
And it seems like you’re pretty basic
And simply enjoy the sun, too
And strawberries, ripe fruits,
Chocolate cake, smiling
Hugging and caressing
Laying on the beach, bare
Making love and enjoying life.
What else is life but a tasty quench from succulent fruits?
Sweet goods, sunlight, and warm weather
Wide embraces, soft kisses behind the ears
Short chats and easy laughs
What else is life but cooing talks
And sweet sweet touch
The tantalizing feel of warm sand beneath feet and between toes, and the compelling tease of the ocean waves
To go back to paradise. To feel the soft, hot, sun crawl around painted skin. To let the ocean waves tease legs; leave it with a taste of some salty, pungent memory. And to let the warm breeze blow all troubles away. To be able to close eyes and breathe in sweet air that carries away the flimsy scarf against the body. To lay in hot sand and move with music from the headphones, while making marks on the ground like some squirming insect. And to let it make marks on the skin like it’s some celestial pattern. Sand all over the skin, in the corners of the mouth. Sand on lashes and sand tangled up in hair. The taste of grit; pulverized reality. The taste of invigorating lips, refreshing. The feel of sweat; clingy, immersed, surrounding, gratifying. And the smell of musk with it is the smell of gripping love. The ferventness of wild nights and crazy passions. To jump into the ocean and surge with the waves under midnight stars. Obsessions. To play like fish and to love like an amphibian. It’s time to drop everything, and go back to paradise.
“On a wave,
heading straight for sure,
heading straight into your arms”
Inspired by music of Markus Schulz: “On a wave”