the ocean

I woke up this morning in the ocean. Pacific, I think. But I can't be sure.

There weren't any of the usual fish around though; in their place were mermaids, but not the Disney kind. Their bodies were pasty white, and skinny; boys I remember from middle school, smiling at me with acne covered faces, fingernails blunt from chewing. Their tails broadcasted their personalities in the form of their internet browser histories, a rather unfortunate characteristic. At least they were easily identifiable that way.

I would make a directory later.

They brought me to their sand castle kingdom, a modest building decorated lamely with shells and seaweed. It resembled a dormitory. I shivered.

In the basement, we sat on stained couches and sang songs of rebellion and metal and death in cracking voices.

Anarchism was a hugely successful fad in the deep sea, I realized, but not because they really believed it. It gave them something to do, and chains and eyeliner to wear, guitars to shred.

I'd learn in time, they promised me.

good morning

I love watching her wake up in the morning. She stretches, yawns.

The sun glints off her long fanged teeth.

She turns to see me, leaning in the doorway, and blinks slowly,

Eyelids closing sideways in front of her

Elliptical pupils.

“Want some breakfast?” she hisses gently,

Forked snake tongue slipping in and out of her ruby lips.

“We’ve got eggs.”

She slips past me into the kitchenette,

Toenails clicking on the hardwood floor,

Leaning in to kiss me on her way past.

Her breath smells of decay.

Some people just don’t understand.

How I can like it when I feel things under her skin.

How I can bear to look at her serpentine face.

The thing is, no one sees her like I do;

No one feels the electricity buzzing when she

Touches my cheek with too many fingers,

Kisses me with too many tongues.

She lights up my life.