(no subject)
It was a Saturday and I swam away from the dawn and the rising tide into the depths, the lurking deep, where a soft siren's song penetrated the darkness; penetrated me, knife deep into all the tender spots of my body. I am no Olympian, but I outran the sun that morning and I swam until there was nowhere left to swim, until the salt coated me like a thick blanket. I swam until the fish no longer nibbled at my toes and every breath was fire. I swam until the calling stopped, and that was where I took my pause... and listened. I had swam to the place where the waves make no noise, because there is nothing to lap against, nothing to caress and coax, but me. I had reached the place where I could blow out my fire and shed my blanket... and sink.