Curried thoughts in a takeaway boxed skull.
Spicy dreams skipped from forward to fade.
Narrowly slipped lovers-scorned scream in the dream's nightshade Sliding away in my lover's morning yawn.
Night fogged and locked away in the waking,
He sits and watches morning TV in her sunbeam.
And she, mindlessly mindful, tidies and thinks of what could please him and ease her scarrying mind.
A cold swim.
Torn apart by rip curl.
Air ripped, salty spit
Trickles down pebble beaten limbs.
The white horse rides high and fast.
Running hard on sharp stones.
She tries to beat the sea's endless yawn.
One pink body, all this watery brawn.
Wind whipped, rain slicked and wave ripped.

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