The sand is coarse among the waves,
The foamy froth curls, rants and raves,
The grainy ground is wet and packed,
And seaweed from the ground is hacked.
Plucked from stormy shallows dark -
bold fish swims among the shark.
Twisting in the deeper pools,
Threads of green unfurl in spools.
Monster beyond comprehension,
Slim limbs hanging in suspension.
Serpent lurks in Blue Lagoon,
Carved in its scales a single rune.
Magicks infuse currents strong -
powers deep and tendrils long.
The shrouded spirit, great insurgent,
Mairocant, the last sea serpent.
There are worse places,
little girl. Worse hells.
This isn’t one of them.
There are depths you haven’t yet seen,
where the dive alone
would **** you.
The sea monster of my depths,
curled still, and waiting,
waiting for me.
I imagine his hand on my ***.
I imagine all the trespasses
I would never let happen
There is the scene of the crime—
I’ll be there once again—
I’ll take a photograph of it
where he knew,
despite the hand that he let caress
its way downward, despite
his fingers that fumbled
that he never should have touched me.
The conversation about consent should have started a long time ago.
I bedded down with Frankenstein
I bedded down with Dracula
I bedded down with the Wolf Man
I bedded down with the Mummy
I bedded down with the Creature
from the Black Lagoon
and the end results
were a carbon copy
of fundamental flaws
oozing with slime,
that wrapped me up in sheets
and laid me to rest
upon the catacombs
of their one bedroom apartments
but after feeling ghastly,
my decision making
became quite hasty
I were the
Tentacles twist breaking bow and mast.
Clinging and clinching to the once mighty vessel.
A ship once prized by the Navy
Now prized as a partner for the sea beast.
Each serpentine tentacle tightens,
Around wooden board, and cast iron fastener.
Creaking and cracking the boat dances as the beast leads.
Waves crazed as they are whipped to frenzy,
Matching the mammoth's rhythms.
They struggle to keep the beast contained.
White caps covering the beasts murderous desire.
The ship is his, and as dances do,
This one ends in a flourish.
Cracking crosstrees and foremast,
Collapsing the gangways,
Sails still whipping as the dancer's dress is ravaged.
And as quickly as it began
The monster sinks back from where his strike began.
The tired vessel following quickly after.
The water forgets its rhythm and steps.
Inspired by a *** commercial? Who knew?
— The End —