fishbowls

Then the frantic shuffling dissapated. Lying in bed, belly pushing against the linen the grasping crawled from head to neck and slithered down my back. That night I dreamt of aquariums and woke up feeling refreshed.

I am not a glass screen. My nose is not pushed into strange postions for the amusement of passers by. Despite my addiction to plasma I am not a flickering light.

My throat felt open. Not entirely unblocked but at least there were spaces for the words to get through. Shoulders rolling and pulse slowing, the amphibians move from water to land.