⇠⇠⇠⇠⇠click the lighted water to go HOME
And when he came back to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it
was raining out of a low sky, and the
tide was way out.
.. i see it(encoded by left-side window, then intermediate highway weather, then roadside noise barrier, then trees) when driving south to virginia, where i am from 
. now I live in new york
I’m afraid that some foreign contaminant remains, working in sick ornate curlicues, at dark back brain, with unnatural movements of constant speed like a digital worm divorced from the screen – that I will slide off and detach completely, entire and formed (and I’m afraid the forming was artificial) self refracted once and now dissolving, or soon to be dissolved – to dissolve itself by lateral presence of acidic enzyme, to be dissolved by the fear of dissolution itself, that the repetitive looped grooving of the fear will enact the matter of the fear itself, semantic destruction, self-feeding – the mother of the fear – also an edge fear, that if I ( and this expresses itself only in carriage, not, I think, in actual motion/action) widen visual field at all, optical range expanded, I will see something or understand something has changed – I am afraid it is not over. That reality = perception. Or that the perception which brought me joy/pain is superseded and encased, then dissolved, by a larger cell. Foreign unreal cell. There is some kind of presence, hard and null, cranisomatically perched at top back of mesospace in the airless enclose of brain/skull seam. I feel the structural aloneness of being a child. I feel unable, but contracted, held in one tense length at full and fearful committal to the preservation of my self.
Anger which is not – the frustration is pointed selfward, in a foamy mash of unfocused arrow, that I let and now suffer the effects. For one slippery moment I felt the old pleasure at the danger of impulsivity and agreed. I did not think of the consequences. And now hold the unletting moral failure of choice. With fear and anger wreathed in such a refractive and warpy way that the substance is ironic, making the solid (I fear: unsolid) self invisible, unseen and so unfluid, carapaced, hidden, and hopefully
safe ╎ A dull dark white against the day's pale white...
And abstractlarches in the neutral light