Day 3

so as I reach day 3 of the month-long challenge it becomes apparent I am embracing the writerly lifestyle, and have become a dishevelled, suffering, alcoholic writer. Sort of...


[untitled]

I stared at the sun for so long,
it baked four fairy-cakes into my retina;
my fingers flattened into door-wedges,
I could have tied shoes with the lengths of my tongue.

If I submerged myself in water I would
start to dissolve.
People would come to watch me, see my eyes
flipped open like switches,
my bones emerging like sunken ships from beneath
an ocean of skin;

my hair floating like duckweed
on the surface of the water

and as the last tiny purses of my breath
burst against that underwater ceiling,

they would sound like bells to those
trapped underneath.