Where do you go when you’re lonely?
gentle thunder rolling in resonating penetrating intimating elevating. wheeling reeling pealing seabirds wafting drifting overhead. single/led. grasses rustling tussocks bustling outlining the horizon climbing and dividing sky. teaching speeching leeching my soul and diffusing it through the beaching bowl.
The rhythmic pulse of the train shudders through, from feet and seat to mind replete with discordance and distrust and contrast so harsh. Announcements, tinny, barely heard tell a tale of a purposeful trip. Gently slowing, harshly stopping, standing up and stepping off the track, to home, to school, to work, too cruel.
. . .
fears and tears oozing and seeping cruising and creeping from body to feet to sand to sea. washed out away too far for fear no feel for tear. gone. stones and shell touch my skin my feet my self. cold life ripples over and around through and into. socks and shoes lie off discarded i stand to my ankles in the world time lies in wait retarded.
Where do you go?
Clamour, candour, glamour, rancour. Winding blinding minding binding. This crush, so lush, so filled with entreaty: commiseration, salivation, intimation, person/nation. What manner of beast is this? What fire burns in the belly of its soul? That I should be inexorably drawn to this interminable union seeds only confusion. The body of my people lies circumferential to my life. I cannot live alone yet I suffocate in this wasteland. I am lonely. Where do you go?
. . .
The release. I stand here, ankle deep in the ocean, on the apex of this windswept peninsula. Here the mind expands to fill the horizon, easing out over the water and land, bounded only by peace. I feel connected to my environment in a way I have never felt in the city behind me. That city is my home, and always have I dreamed of the peace of the ocean. But now I understand. This is the reality. It’s the rest of my life that’s the dream.