Sinking, these black gulps of salt water consume us. Someone must come. We cannot be allowed to drown. Surely.
Kick your legs, churn your arms, grit your teeth against the chill. Choose who you are as seaweed caresses your calves. There are no saviour’s hands that will lift us up. Not even our own.
That’s not the warm embrace of love but hard physics, pinning us with disinterest. Its hand to our faces, pressing.
Kick your legs, churn your arms, spit out the ocean until it drowns.