we cruise the bed, hollow-spined,
sifting sea-salt blindly.
Our sex slithering the incessant dark
of our infinity,
and cold, cold the waters.
cold-bloodedly entering the exits.
Endlessly unbecoming ourselves
in our Möbius swim we slid vivid blue.
Blind hands stretched to the mutual night,
and the museum pieces
of our former fossilized selves hinted
at our rumoured existence,
where familiarity petrifies
and absence is cloaked in the Other.
So, satiated we steered,
through the deep dark of our ocean floors,