this sea is tungsten. it seethes at my touch as white as bone, although not made of bone. my heart goes undeceived. these waves clutch at the shore and loose calamity. surrounded by horizons i grow small.
Helena
the light is gentle under the surface. the surf comes to me as soft sounds not unlike small breaths. my own breaths slow to the scale of atoms. my heart grows round and perfectly smoothββ this does not taste like defeat.