head in the sand

Up until now I have avoided distraction.

In the late afternoon I grow tetchy. My thoughts tick and my shoulders itch. I am less like water. I am dry and receeding. I am mimicing my landscape once again.

I am thinking my way through the days. I am falling only into my bed at night. My dreams of ocean liners. I am floating only on special occasions.

The romance of distance and isolation and nothingness becomes me. I fall over and over and over again.