izzy

The way the sun melts into water reminds me of cell membranes. There is surface tension but the rays just pass through it until they are suspended in the abyss, becoming almost crystalline, striking through the surf, cutting bubbles in half. The weight of the ocean is too much for a human body past a certain depth. It presses you in and compacts you until you can’t rise to the surface the same again. The blobfish looks less than a pile of snot with a nose at its natural depth because the pressure holds it together. I wonder what my flesh would look like that far down; Whether my heart or my head would collapse first. Somehow the light shards are loose too, and they spin and sway through the waves like glowing specters. I couldn’t sleep last night because it was so thrilling having you in my bed asleep and right next to me. Streetlights refracting on the shifting surface of the ceiling and crashing down on me in waves. I can’t tell if I’m drowning or flying but your shin’s pressed against my shin, your cheek against my arm so I can breathe.

*

sarah

Hey mister DJ
A request if you’re willing:
Play something loud enough
To cover my breath

It’s been too many cigarettes
I’ve lost my inhaler
I’m rasping like woodwork
I’m coughing like death

I’ve got blood in my ears
Like a timpani drummer
But my heart’s got no rhythm
Keeps losing the beat

Over handsome new faces
And familiar traces
Of a perfume that someone
Once left on my sheets

I know there are neighbours
I know it’s a weeknight
I’ll write them a letter
I’ll bake them a pie

I just need to become it
My bones full of music
My pores spewing static
An electric disguise

Let me dance on a wavelength
Of screaming percussion
Let me march through a bassline
And crash in a heap

Turn it up to eleven
A hundred times over
To blow out my speakers
To send me to sleep

*