JACK
see me falling
yeah, down and lonely
yeah, down and lonely
A man washes up on the shore.
His clothes cling to his body; a wiry, scarred thing, even more bedraggled for the seawater weighing it down.
And he doesn’t move, this man, as if the waves have crushed him into the sand, as if he’s a bit of driftwood run aground. But his fingers, wrinkled from their time in the sea, claw at the shoreline, and as he gets his knees beneath him he expels a great deal of water out of his lungs.
Coughing and retching, Jack leans his forearms into the sand and groans out something like a curse. He’s not dressed as if he’s gone for a swim, still in his boots, and if a thundercloud, black and heavy and furious, could settle over him in that moment, it fucking would.
His clothes cling to his body; a wiry, scarred thing, even more bedraggled for the seawater weighing it down.
And he doesn’t move, this man, as if the waves have crushed him into the sand, as if he’s a bit of driftwood run aground. But his fingers, wrinkled from their time in the sea, claw at the shoreline, and as he gets his knees beneath him he expels a great deal of water out of his lungs.
Coughing and retching, Jack leans his forearms into the sand and groans out something like a curse. He’s not dressed as if he’s gone for a swim, still in his boots, and if a thundercloud, black and heavy and furious, could settle over him in that moment, it fucking would.
are the angels on their way?
i’m in the dirt
i’m in the dirt
