[5:36 p.m.] : [2004-02-23]

Collect calls to home to tell them that I realize that everyone who lives will someday die and die alone i've been thinking about certain things. a person. how events and feelings relate and perseption of it. i hate self revelation sometimes. how a little thought can make a change you might not want. clarity can work against you and at the same time i guess it's the only thing that has been working for me. If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand. I hope you find out what you want. I already know what I am. And if it makes you less sad, you can tell me how vile I already know that I am. A crown of gold and a heart that's harder than stone. And it hurts a whole lot, but it's missed when it's gone. Call me a safe bet. But I'm betting I'm not. certain things i have been working for: making somthing of myself, creating a starting point to build upon so one day i might be able to have what i want. and maybe a certain individual. after all i think i've always been one to only work if i am working for someone. it's how i define myself. but i'm not talking short term or anytime soon. real plans for a future at a future time maybe years down the line. i've never thought that way before. but talking the other night i realised that it's not going to happen. at this point i am the one that will not let it. certain things are between and i can't make her see that a little thing is enough to destroy everything and so now i have to start working for me. i just don't know how to let her know. the wrong words will strand you. Come off course while you sleep. I need you like water in my lungs. This is the end. We sent out the SOS call. It was a quarter past four in the morning when the storm broke our second anchor line. Four months at sea. Four months of calm seas to be pounded in the shallows off the tip of Montauk Point. They call them rogues. They travel fast and alone. One hundred foot faces of God's good ocean gone wrong. What they call love is a risk, cause you will always get hit out of nowhere by some wave and end up on your own. The hole in the hull defied the crews attempts to bail us out. And flooded the engines and radio and half buried bow. Your tongue is a rudder. It steers the whole ship. Sends your words past your lips or keeps them safe behind your teeth. But . Sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reef. The vessel groans the ocean pressures its frame. Off the port I see the lighthouse through the sleet and the rain. And I wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts. But the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west. They say that the captains they stay fast with the ship through still and storm. But this ain't the Dakota, and the water is cold. We won't have to fight for long. This is the end. This story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear. Calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath. I am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea. I spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean. I know that this is what you want. A funeral keeps both of us apart. You know that you are not alone. Need you like water in my lungs. This is the end.

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