Wet Dreams

Content note: Disturbing/violent sexual imagery.

Sunset on the Beach

The tide's coming in and I'm lying here on the beach without a care in the world. It won't last forever- nothing does- but for a little while I can just rest here, tasting the remains of my fourth pina colada and feeling that pleasant, chemical numbness relaxing every one of my limbs.

The tide's at my toes now, warm and pleasant but still enough to wake me a little from the stupor I'd fallen into. I creak my eyes open- one of them can see sand and the other, if I pull it hard to the side, can see along the beach. The sunset's coloured the beach a vibrant orange, so intense it's hard to pick out the pretty seashell I found earlier. It's right in front of me now. My face is pressed into the sand like a pillow, the weight of my head crushing my nose to the side. I have to breathe through my mouth.

The tide's past my knees and I'm breathing fast. My heart's running like a jackhammer and my fingers twitch with the desire to pull forward and push me up. I don't know why they won't. I can see the tide line on the beach and the water's going to come past me if I don't move. Why can't I move? Four pina coladas should not do this to a grown woman, I used to have six and think nothing of it and even if four made me a little fuzzy I went for a walk to clear my head so why isn't it clear? My left hand throbs. I think I cut myself on that seashell and then- and then what?

The tide's up past my belly and the more adventurous waves are starting to tickle the bottom of my chin. The foam's getting in my nose and I feel like I can almost move my legs; the water makes them light and I think if I can flip over I can float. I can flip over. I'm sure of it. I can just get this right, wiggle my toes and my fingers so I rock onto my back. It can't be that hard. I take a deep breath and it's half sea foam and I lose track for a moment

The tide's at my mouth and I have to breathe slowly or I just suck water into my lungs. Sometimes a big wave washes over me from head to toe and I feel like I'm sinking further into the sand. It stings my eyes. Someone's coming, right? Someone's coming because it's a busy beach, people walk around and you'd be able to tell I'm not doing well. It takes two minutes to drown. I read that once.

The tide's over my mouth and pouring into me and I can't stop it. I can't breathe. One minute and forty seconds now. Someone's going to find me and I'll flip over and I'll be fine. One minute twenty. Everything's blurry from the salt and I don't need to breathe, I don't need to, I can breathe out slowly and I can breathe in when someone comes to get me, come and get me, where are you

I can breathe in when someone comes to get me

I can breathe in when

Oh god it's not painless it burns your insides like fire and now I'm twitching all over, convulsing and shaking and god why couldn't I move my back earlier because now I'm arching and retching like a cat and there's still no air just another burning breath of salt and vomit help me come and help me please PLEASE

Vermilion

They came on a Tuesday
in the papercut between last night and this morning
on the corner of every street.

Ours was vermilion and puce
even though I did not know those words before.
They spoke when you looked at them and I knew
~
this is an artichoke
this is wind howling under membranous wings
this is a Fourier transform
this is vermilion 
and puce
~
in the brief instant when I looked at it
and had to turn away
and painted the concrete with my breakfast.

They spoke so fast.

Within a week I knew
~
this is an embrace
this is somewhere new
this is courage
this is better
and yours
~
and people had started to go away.

I saw the man from down the street make his decision.
He stared at it longer than I had seen anyone stare
without the glasses the government had first recommended
and then provided with astonishing speed.
It was speaking to him
and then he embraced it
roughly, like a brother
that you know is healthy and hearty and returned to you
fierce love shouted in the clasping of arms
and then he was gone away.

Now, no-one has gone away for a long time.
The people who stayed
are the sort of people who stay
so we don't look at them any more
except
even through the glasses
they still whisper
~
this is courage
~
and I wish I could know it
like vermilion
or puce