I feel like I have not had anything to say in a very long time. The illusion that there is an answer has lead me down one too many dark dead-end alleys. What was I fighting for? So resistant to society. So angry that I have to fight. These days, i want nothing. It's easier that way. I wake up. there's no battle to march into. I get lost tying my shoes. This ashtray a constant reminder of all of my failures. The desire then instant gratification and then loss all in one ash covered stink. I used to have friends that challenged me. Now I feel sympathy. Poor sean, didn't build a ladder to get out of the hole he dug himself into. i could blame anyone but myself. I have to stop smoking weed so I can get into the factory that I have spent most of my life running from. I never wanted the fear. Now I'm afraid all the time. the days are fragile. i wonder when it's going to fall apart. when I'll fuck it up again.

It's the undercurrent that will get you. The waves are mostly show, the ocean rolling in gentle as it has done since the moon broke off the earth. The pictures don't show the pain. The silver screen never quite illuminating the idea. But behind or inside down deep, there is guilt. Everything that is presented, hides something else. A magician conjures nothing more than your own mind. I feel the sand, it's sucking me slowly, geologically out to sea. I would rather fall off a cliff, disappointment comes on quicker that way. But the sand is only as strong as the tide. One might see it happening if you are still enough. Quiet enough. In my moment of silence I have not witnessed truth. Shallow vagaries meant only to confuse, to encourage segregation. We split ourselves in two to become half of what we want. The other half dies. No funeral for lost dreams. No sadness for what could have been only a dull disgusting comma in a wordless poem. I am the thing that I hate. I hate the thing that I want to become, so I will be still. I will wait for nothing and plan for everything that will not happen. I'm a triple negative. If my life was put to film, my mind would be the sprocket holes. The empty space that lines up the revolutions.

I miss the fire. I touched it once, it danced with me. Turning the cold blank surface to lava connected just so. It flowed and froze on my command. Now I beg to spark the torch, and i am stopped by an empty cup. I am turned into a child scratching at poison ivy only to have it spread. I don't have any more prayers to not be answered. If this is the feeling of being an adult, I take it back. I don't want it anymore. I want the hours of looking at fossilized death back. I want to build a dam and sit in the rain for hours to watch it fail. and be happy about it.

heyyyy
[You]
10:38pm
where are you?
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:38pm
st augustine f l a
[You]
10:39pm
did you really get married?
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:39pm
yes but i cn explain
[You]
10:39pm
i'm intriqued
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:39pm
hahahahahahah why
[You]
10:40pm
you didn't seem like the gettn' hitched kinda gal
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:40pm
i wasnt
hahahahahah
[You]
10:40pm
now you are?
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:40pm
it happpens
i did it to help him
[You]
10:41pm
"but my new porch is bland, and nothing interesting has come my way lately." what's that about. yeah I'm quoting you...
[Sarah Elizabeth Alarcon]
10:42pm
your lerking
uhhhhh .........
i need somethiing to come my way
[You]
10:43pm
what are you waiting for?
10:46pmSarah is offline.