Day Three Hundred and Fifty-Five.


Today’s theme: swim.

Izzy circle


breathing underwater is easier than beating the world number one under 12s chess champion.
holding your head underwater for the first time you see stars

little pricks of silver tied to the depth of you
breathless runners scratching at the light
moving in slow motion

you won’t find out what they mean for years yet


Sarah circle


When I kissed you, you tasted of ocean and ozone
and you pulled me, tidal, towards your hands
Or, when I kissed you, I thought of salt and vinegar chips
and shivered when you ran a finger down into my pubic hair

You swamped me, rushing waves in the crook of my ear
the trickle of water between my legs sinking back into the sand
Or, you crushed me, whispered porn-lifted nonsense with wheezing breath
left a string of drool on my inner thigh which revolted me irrationally

We thundered over the low-lying suburbs, tsunamis with white bared teeth
drowned the half-sleeping bums and the children’s lost rabbits
Or, you snored like a motorbike, two stroke and tedious
while I gritted my teeth and masturbated beside you
holding my breath so you wouldn’t hear



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