Death of a Nihilist [poetry]

21. breathing in a blue whale

feet tethering over jagged rocks,

nails digging into the jutting stones,

baby, you're tied to the oceanic churns below,

alive in the twenty thousand feet of awaiting air

where your breath meets the white waves

and you blood hums to the orcas' croons

bulleting through the arctic ocean

in a pursuit of a lone blue whale.

the black glistening your pupils,

dark as gravel

paved the way to your astray,

and the snow coated the winter ground

sparkling from the recesses and alcoves

descending down, down, downward,

melting into the twisting tides beneath.

hear the sky seethes,

hear the wind whispers.

they wail for you to come home.

the way of water,

or the beginning and the end,

it's the womb of your birth,

and the cradle of your death,

feel the torrents trill to the syllables

of your name.

so just a little bit more.

tip over the edge.

october calf, you're born to the sea.

have no fear. dive into the deep.

the surface surges and swallows your body,

like the jaws of an orca, unhinging wide,

inhaling a scream, you're a blue whale,

remains torn apart and dragged away by the currents.

dissolve in bubbles, a faint trail of blood.

the whale's white belly drifts along,

gleaming under the beaming sun.

the ocean carries on

its apathetic song.

⸻

prompt: breathing in a blue whale