First, the electricity. Thin worms of light twisting on a domed black canvas. Shapes and letters, obscure images.
E <++> I (:0) O
Second, the conversations. Snippets, at varying volume.
I love you. David, what did you have for dinner? I didn’t see that. It’s like translucence. My aunt gave me twenty bumble bees on a black stocking. Ketchup.
Third, the water. Goodbye to blue sky and ground. Warm, deep, bubbles, slow motion, defensive slices. Then, yielding.
Kick. Kick. Kick. Drift. See. Hear. Thoughts pushing through like fingers in a spider web. I told you I loved you, David. Her hair like horns, but soft soft soft lips. Turning thoughts. Kick. Kick. Kick. Golden dog curled bedside, stretching legs, yawning. Kick. Kick. Smooth white skin, breasts. Approach. Suckle. Rise. Rise. Rise. Breaking the surface, angry. Buzzing. KickKickKick. Pulled up.
Fighting the sky, smashing the clock, only to lace up dirty dawn boots to punch another.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Robert Louis Stevenson