The ocean down here seems a little darker since the last time we met, me the yellow sand and the floating trash bags.
And the people passing by I don't really see, spending too much time trying to look for me. I reckon that my spirits been tossed down here, just don't know where, why or when but I know it was me.
The loneliness, it tightens it's grip.
And i'm still a little senseless, a little scared from time to time but I keep my head high.
Nothing seems the same since we were kids, some sort of horrified voyeur of the human race that I've become and some people seem a little more vulgar, a little less interesting, overall not worth the time I spend on this globe. I've come to fall in love, start a family, and I think i'm on the right path. I've lost my contact with those I know, I should chase that, but somehow I know I wont.
I'm scared of drowning, being poor, losing her affection, running out of music to listen to, and death.
I wrap myself around my morals and fall over the railing, the wind is faster almost feels like dull dull switchblades bumping the opposite side of their blades against my hair and my face, and that doesn't scare me because I have no cuts and the fall is short, into the ocean. In between the splashing and the ability to see underwater I think about the daily sports and the sunsets I've never missed out on.
I held still a little, and leaned my waist to the side, put my hand on it for stability and looked down on my cigarette burning away. I thought about sitting down but didn't want to dirty up my jeans. I thought about leaning against the wall but didn't want people staring. So I just stood still, and stared at the black suits and beige dresses fading into the sun at the end of an avenue.