Dawn of the dead

2004-03-20, 1:58 a.m.

it was so sureal, waking up into the morning sun today, where my room posessed all the shade of summertime. i wanted not to get up, but rather to fall asleep until the rain clouds returned that silver light to morning, and the saturated landscapes soaked in water.

tonight, there were storms that water could never encompass, emotion swirling under the tempest's fingertips. boats at sea, masts cracking likea silk worm in the fingers of a god, with winds whistling through the siren's song. i don't know how to feel, under these pretenses, where manipulation is accepted policy, and everything quiet is profane.

maybe i could assuage that feeling in my gut with the salty breeze of the Pacific. tomorrow, maybe, i will slip under the covers of existential freedom once again.