Random notebook find. circa 2005

and all i can do is hope and
all i can hope.

Only now that we are poles apart can i see the significance. Aspects of character magnified as separate entities. We all drink for different reasons. The need is everpresent. As this loss consolidates. The system loads another. Level eye contact circle body literate sage of circumstance. The motive behind the nuance. Painting constellation of events for easy reading in the evening (before the bedroom light goes off) A collapse of reason. Futile sun hoper wish the weather where the hole began. Under the stairs child at last. A place to drink. Sit look lonely for a call. A whisper of truth in a look. A thousand stolen glimpses can't recreate a moment of madness. We made for the bright lights. We escaped for these good times. Condensed without the lack. Without the empty fort i built. That these hands built. We realise that to forget one's self is to be one's self. That which we search for. Cataclysmic revelations or mishapen epiphanies to break apart the day. Settle on unknown. Settle with a silent minute. Settle sleeping on cars. Settle with the last name. Settle with a goodness i can't create. Still making new complaints. Always offering such advise. Always as a constant. Always as a standard. Always as a fragment of never. Of always suffering this constant pressure. A new dawn aligns with a new day of terror. Watch gravity force the new collapse.

how do you think we crossed the ocean?