syberea

i wake up in the morning and cant seem to get the ocean from my blood. it is everywhere, pounding through my bones, bringing dreams and fear in its wake. i am drowning in myself because i dont know how to swim, drowning but breath doesnt leave, drowning but more alive than ever.

i am sitting on the porch watching my life pass me by, waving at the strangers that walk past, its a silent moving picture out there. the strangers are like flies but more beautiful. loudness attracts flies. or perhaps strangers are moths and loudness is flame. scream your accomplishments and gain admiration. this is how it is, i kid you not. the world makes no room for the quiet.