the only thing i believe in now is the sound of the Atlantic

it was the coldest winter of our lives and i loved you only in poor syntax.

i can't keep re-grating across the nerves and repulling the scabs from the wounds. and sometimes, it will get flighty out, and thwe wind hits just right, and thinking of you makes it somehow all more colorful. loving you was only the easy thing to do.

and this is the way i only feel about the ocean now. i am waiting now.("paper thin against a pen like skin against scars") it might be easier to go the soft road or forget the things we never knew about, at least to wait out the storm. but this is the way i only feel about the ocean now.

and i know it's too late the change the language of things. it's too late to go around the corner and find dictionaries for the relief fund. to put pausing, beautiful notes on the wall and attach them to everyone who passes by. i remember the arms raised and putting them up to join the sky and let it know there was arching eyebrows ad mysteries to be felt.

and now it's all so new or so rundown. but this is only how i feel about the ocean now.

so i'm waiting, armas outsretched, skin lurching into te sky, and knowing i can only come home when the breeze hits.

you should know:

i kiss air for the new years.

2003-01-01 | 2:21 p.m.
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