being depressed is like riding a wonderful whale round the world, it stops ad you get off to pick a few flowers, turn around and theres a typhoon.
all the sand is gone blown away, just rocky shores and the cry of gulls off in the distance. is this the place i once stood as a child?
is this the tidal pool where that bizarre creature clouded the waters with its ink? ive been in this place before, sometimes further down, sometimes not as much. its nice to know that the path only leads so far, that im still afraid to go round that last bend. its good to know that there are people that still care.

i used to walk down the beach singing bluegrass music to myself. there was no one else i knew there. maybe my father, but do i really know him? the skies were clear every day, and clear at night. i walked the beaches all day, from one end of the island to the other. i knew i had made a mistake. i had to pay.

in the ocean at night with the full moon reflecting off the water. a little fear of sharks. was that needed. the barracuda were definitely more fearsome. lying on a sandbar fully nude in the moonlight. thats how i feel better. nature is like a blanket that i pull over myself when i am afraid, it never changes, it is always free.

the city has lines which excite my mind in so many ways, reminding me of things i never saw, telling me things i never knew. when i walk i see so many small things.

i wish that i could be happy again.






i know there is more to life than this, ill find it. i must.