Deep, impenetrable fog suddenly descends
from the sea,
swirling like cotton-wool balls
It slumps down in a chair,
its sheer mass dragging it closer to the ground,
the seat fibres stretching and groaning under its weight.
signal there’s no chance of it moving soon.
I trudge on through murky, grey candyfloss to the shore.
The tide out; the only escape over the treacherous marshes.
heaving each limb from the gelatinous bed
like unsuspecting fingers caught in superglue.
Legs tire as though Nordic walking through a swimming pool.
Those twinkling lights and familiar sounds of normality on the mainland
an unattainable goal in the distance.
The cold, soft mud then opens up, sucking me inwards
like a snake’s mouth widening to engulf its prey,
gripping my body in a sleepy inertia.
And with one gulp,