June 2, 2003

The beach is where time dissolves into torrents, sand, and the purest elements. I have recurring dreams about being on the beach alone, a hurricane nearing, I am sitting on the sand that's been warmed by the hidden sun. I have no destination, but I feel that I am where I'm meant to be. This is where stable earth melts into the all too powerful ocean, agelessly, but so vulnerably ... the love so delicate and so ... my contradictions surface like the foam: perfect tension within the perfect peace. I don't know where I am going or where I am meant to be.

I feel so weak below this linear existence. I feel so weak.

I wish to die at the beach, when I die. It's where I do not belong, but ... and ...

A longer day I will not live. I reach you too early, too late. Come meet me, because I love you to.
Rest together, idle together,
Carefully watch as the petals fold open, the leaves are ready to sip the sun
To know
Belated joy, is better than none, and
Evening is a good time to cook your little black tapiocas (silly!). I will
Meet you and wait; your grin is worth it. I've
Not another chance, so. I will
Ever, ever save my applause for you.

Month 1

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