i lone

the tide is running without water, old or new. an old hospital pillow comforts sand. a body thinks of sinking into sand, but relinquishes that feeling by look of other such sailors around. to live at sea is an envisioned comfort, but once you're there it's only turbulence, literal and textural. the land stabilizes, but too much stability can make you feel dizzy over again. be moved steadily, at an unchanging pace, to keep the motion of new a constant. if that makes sense.

to stand on a boat but feel like you're not moving. or, gently rocking, rather.

to run across a rock, but feel like the scenery is the same. the warmth of feet from soaked sun = the truth that people are the same everywhere. we always find those who will work towards our manifest and latent means, where there is no end. every life may expire, but there is no death.

and sorry to stray, but i don't apologize. sinking into sand, and wondering where the beach turns to water at each consecutive centimeter towards the earths core. visions of the mathematical equation that produces that answer dance in empty heads. i guess i'm just trying to say that i need a day at the beach, and a real beach, not a lake beach. a beach that is so warm and drunk that you entirely forget that there's land out there if you look far enough. but there are many (MANY) things around us, in our immediate eye, the we do not perceive.