at night, poseidon made the whole world indigo.
at night, the sigh of the sea buried into his bones, bony fingertips scraping his lungs raw. he kissed he salt spray muddled in his gums, like summer ice cream crusting in his nails when he was barely a slip of a boy. back when the world was okay. it is not okay anymore.
the tide does not feel like dying.
the tide feels like coming home.
blood ran down the crook of his scraped elbows, stifling the sand beneath his scraped knees. shoulders curving, he bends, a chrome leaf in the autumn wind, and stuffed his fingers in the gold sand and letting it slip through his fingertips, not a hourglass without time but a hourglass with infinity.
femme fatale stifles his sense, lips that taste sickly-sweet roam the auric curls of his hair. nectar skin that tastes like the ocean.
drown me drown me drown me.
the constellations are her freckles on rose stain, pulsing like their hearts in their caved chests. she held him tighter, lips of champagne dripping down the side of his head like the blood on his trembling hands.
she tastes like the ocean.
swallow me swallow me swallow me
"you are depthless. you are infinite. drown me. swallow me." he said. "i want to come home."
her teeth press against his.
kill me kill me kill me.
"your heart is gold, wet, wriggling." she said. "YOU WILL BECOME THE OCEAN; YOU WILL GO HOME."