"darling, hasn't this gone a little too far?"

senior year- shipwreck in the sand

it used to be beautiful, the old wooden ship, but now it is just tired and efficient and performs the way it should. it is huge and stately and starting to rot but was once the captains pride and joy. he will not let it go, he will not give up hope, on the old ship that has carried him home. it has been pushed pushed pushed against the salty tide for years and years and the captain believes in it more than anything.
the ship has seen so much, has seen enough, moon and stars and sand and water and oceans and oceans and oceans. the captain has manned it, night and day, night and day, steering through the waters, salt pushing against battered wood, algae pulling the ship back back. the crew now, the latest crew, is tired and lonely and hungry but not caring because the captain promised a shore, promised an oasis, they trust in the captains vision. but the captain has lost the plot the captain has lost the map but has not told anyone, the captain has lost the map but he has a compass and thinks that will suffice, but it will not, it never does.

what he had was enough, for a while, until suddenly it was not.
and the sun sets, the ocean is vast and empty and eerie and there is no shore in sight, no distant lands, nothing on the horizon- until suddenly suddenly there is something there is something in the water that the captain did not see, but he sees it now as it stick out of the water and what is it? something huge and metallic and jagged and awful and its a shade darker than the black night sky, if only it wasn't night, if only the captain had been more careful, more honest, paid more attention,
if only it hadn't been night,
then the captain would have seen it- but he did not and it is too late as the ship takes the course it was set for and the side is struck hard by this obstacle that was not seen, the no one had seen, coming. and there is water lapping and there are sounds of ropes breaking and a creaking a vast, vast creaking that echoes across the empty sea and a horrible splintering noise as the hull is destroyed, as water rushes in and fish are speared open by the teeth that the wood has left, the water rushes in the ship is going down down down and there may be a lighthouse beam, far in the distance,but it does not matter anymore, it will not matter, because this ship that the captain had placed all his hope in, is sinking.

and the morning will come and things will wash ashore, a necklace, some papers, pieces of wood- lots of wood splintered bones of wood- some metal, all they will find is a shipwreck in the sand that the captain
did not see coming,
did not see coming,
did not see coming.

ghosting

this bed is too small. damn hospital bed in this country town. middle of nowhere. flies all over the ceiling, in the cracks of the windows. white walls. white sheets. white dress. wait... that wasn't here. i never saw that. all this white nauseates me. i'm undoubtably sick but these walls... oh God. will this be how i go? with no family to speak of? i forgot that after you see the world, you start from scratch. i met a few women- in dives, in bars. none would have me, i would have none. there was only one that came close, but i lived without her! do you see that? do you see? i was fine! lonely, maybe. my six feet of earth will be next to strangers. but its fitting; i find myself one. how did i get to this hospital? the water. the yellow house down by the water.  they found me there. no, no they didn't.
i was fishing. i cast the lure into the water, let it bob. she had no such success. ellen damn near caught the back of her dress when she projected the lure behind her, behind her head. we are a picnic that day; we had the fish, grilled and gutted. she made us small cakes, even managed to bring iced teas. she had everything put together. 'cept me.
thats where they found me. i had tried to go fishing.
        mind you, i wasn't trying to find her.