Friday, August 20, 2021

Man On A Beach

I'm a man on a beach. 


How I got here I dare not explain in words, yet here I am everyday scribing experience after experience that comes to memory. The thoughts make my heart heavy, yet I continue purely because the experiences somehow have value beyond me. 


I'm a man on a beach.


My transgressions are strong in my memory. Many of them haunt me as the moon casts a glowing column of light on the water. The clouds are thin but many. The wind rolls back and forth under my collar as I stand. 


I'm a man on a beach. 


I snap back to the present as the waves flatten and flow up the sand. The warm water crests over my feet and wets the ankle of my pants. It's fucking midnight, what am I doing here?


I'm a man on a beach. 


Wait? Is that me? Am I alive in there? Do I feel something? No it can't be. That's impossible at this point. You can only be numb cause none of what goes on really has any meaning. The experiences are supposed to make you feel things, change your motivations even; until the day you die.


I'm a man on a beach.


Am I? Are you sure I'm a man? Or am I a facade stretched over a core of nothingness? Fuck, am I Patrick Bateman? Nah that character is only fictitious in execution and absurdity. But I couldn't be one of the real life Bateman-types because I'm poor, so I hold compassion for people, because I think it makes my existence a bit more legitimate. In reality it means nothing, even though I made somebody else feel something. That's enough for me though: making people feel something. If I'm capable enough maybe I can help save someone else from emptiness. But for right now I'm just a man on a beach.

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