I'm currently surviving the day on around an hour and a half of sleep in the receipt of some rather painful news last night. Tiredness makes spelling words like tiredness really quite difficult as it turns out. Anyway, I managed to use some of that time in the dark writing today's little number. Not a talking animal in sight...think I must be coming down with something. Queue sadface.
I had planned some kind of extravaganza for the fact that I'm halfway through my challenge (yay!) but I just don't have the energy. Here, have this picture of two blobs:
Day 20, roll on two.
In Your Wake
I bob like a piece of churned up rubbish.
Your new lovers lean over the side
and vomit on me, making my struggle
for the surface that little bit more acidic.
You have set a course for sunset, and as far
as I can tell, you’re making good progress.
Is it wrong to root for icebergs?
To give my vote to stormy weather?
You were always inclined to wash over me,
but once the crest of the wave had fallen,
I was left drowning and dishevelled.
You were always a stronger swimmer than me.