. three .

drinking yourself to the point of exhaustion, or sitting along wallowing in your own self pity, i have been slowly trying to decide which of these is the lesser of two evils. the former has presented itself much to often in recent months, but last night i opted for the former.  i left the street lights of pitman and headed south, the entire way wondering what i was doing.  i knew all too well where my car and the deserted roadways were leading me but i did not want to acknowledge.  wildwood is a cold an lonely place at eleven at night in october.  it was the first time since last autumn that i had smelled the brackish water, and it was a welcome scent.  too many memories, i won't know why i do this to myself.   i've wanted to scream for weeks now, but everytime i open my mouth, nothing will come out, i've been on the verge of tears for an eternity but there seems to be a drought taking place.  i though someone deep in my mind that feeling the sand between my toes and smelling that salty air, where it all started, would bring me some sort of peace, if nothing at least some semblance or release. unfortunately, i was wrong.   the second i hit the shores my mind was blank, i wanted to think but there were no thoughts to be had.   i didn't recall the waves being so deafening, but when the rides cease movement and there are not thousands of people on the glorified two by fours a hundred feet prior, those waves are the only sound to be heard, and my ears are still ringing.  beach closed after ten.  boots don't fare well in sand, they had to be removed, i sat atop a sand dune and watched the tide slowly come in, my fingers felt like they were going to fall off.  such quiet, even the gulls didn't utter a word.  solidarity, maybe it's for the best.