Thursday, June 9, 2011

The fragile

It comes as quickly as it goes and with as much reason.

There is no arguing with a mood.

They don't make coffee strong enough for days like today, because coffee wasn't made for this. Candy coat the beans and chew them all day long and wait for a joy so thick it gurgles from some unknown depth of your gut.

Acceptance from anywhere... from beyond the sphere we call home? I think not, from the intangible form of a brittle soul.

There used to be this sort of forceful spewing of the stuff. I don't miss those painful times.

The gulf is calling. A straight shot down I-65. I want at least two weeks to explore the entire shore, though endless time would be best to inhale the riches of it's offering, and I have no choice but to decline even a single day in that vast open space. Empty, open, and choiceless as the beach itself.

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