How else to write yours truly (do you see the words)

V,

I keep listening to same song, over and over. Over and Over, over and over. I'm over... Nothing. "A little bit funny and a little bit sad. You think  I'll ever find you again at our kissing place? I wonder why didn't you work out." - over and over this banshee beat in my ears.

I no longer know who to lean on.

I know nothing

But I'm certain of so much. And in that instantaneous switch, I lose all sense of certainty.

I really don't give a fuck about healthcare, and taxes, baseball (any sport or accomplishment of any sort, for that matter). I no longer wish to create. I want nothing of fortune. I simply long to travel north. For some reason it's always been north for me. Wherever that leads.

To the line that marks the edge of the coast along the Euro-Asian continent, and simply witness how the waves wash up upon the boulders, resting on one another, drunken wanderers along the progression of earth to sea, too inebriated to stand, too witless to care, Silently resigned. Lapped against. Beaten. Decaying. Eroding. Becoming sand upon the ocean's floor. Dug into by sand crabs and burrowed by the beaks of sandpipers, stuck to the skins of seals, collected, lost, sifted, heated into solidified clarity. Framed, boarded, installed. Saw through, no secrets, always exposed, visible but looked beyond. Sorrow at assumption. Broken, shattered. swept up and collected. Discarded, confined, contained and transported. Bumpy roads, bouncing. breaking further. becoming something again, mingled with dust and debris, detritus, exfoliation, darkness.

Or lapped and pulled upon, brought out to the depths where once again things appear dark. one among many. Ground and grown over. Lost in the unknown. Cold. uncertain, but defined. Convinced by touch and sensory deprivation. You don't have to be down here with me. Light, little spears of glitter from above. You can't help but swim to it now that you've acknowledged its place in this vision. How long does it take to break through the surface? Seems an eternity and too soon gone. Just like this song that I can't stop repeating over and over. Over and Over. Over...

K.