The seashore pounds, we are careless. Who recycles in this city? I watched a cigarette pulled out of a tortoise's nose on my facebook. For every action there is an opposite but equal. I push out my pointer finger into the space that exists beyond me and there is a ripple. I am traveling. I am not where I was. I am in the universe beyond, a place where I do not exist. There I see colors, dreams I never dreamed. I float in this body but it is not mine and it is mine all at once. I can feel the oxygen pressing from the outside into my carbon dioxide cove. Nobody is nothing, a somebody that never went nowhere, a person that doesn't need a god. Here I can see with no eyes. Here I can feel. But where are you? In the sea? In my sea? Inside of my body swimming, you are swimming and I am and we are.

At first it wasn't hard being apart but everything changes, you start to become someone you're not. Last night I slept on the couch of an old friend, these Manhattan high rises anxiously looming overhead. I dreamt I was projected up onto a wall in a motion theater where everything featured was something original with an artistic cast, and a genre-less sort of class and an award-less director working for the love of the craft.

At least I know how it feels to be brand new. (A person that don't need a god.) At least I know how it feels to be one of you. At least I can speak my mind. If that ever changes you are welcome to carve out my eyes. At that point, we'll already be blind.

I miss fresh air, I miss my friends, I wish that I could see them now. I long for summers like the ones before we found the big lie out. I miss my innocence, my faith and fear of hell, when Alkaline trio was touring 'Crimson' and we were still finding ourselves. I miss when the president of these united states was at least a reptile of intelligence that hissed with half a brain. I miss when society cared about reason and not just who to blame, I miss when facts and evidence were valued and truth just held more weight. I miss believing in a future other than death.

But of the things that I miss most, the song of all the oceans ghosts crying out wins. We just don't hear them anymore. We learn to tune them out, as we age their voices drown. There's no picking up where we left off before. No starting over, no starting over. When they're gone they're gone, you can listen by the shore. But you're afraid because you don't hear a thing anymore.

There is a buoy, an island and a lighthouse. There is a family there who care about the earth. If only we didn't ruin it for them. I spent a lot of years willing myself to grow wings, to transform, to fly.