long shores far away, war stories, and a need for change

I've been thinking of traveling lately. Imagining all the places I've been. all the shades of ocean I've seen., shades of forest, of people. The thought of I've been lucky has been prominent. Most people never see outside of the city. The hill country amazes them for fucks sake. And while I'm sure that sense of awe is unique in every way, I've know a deeper sense and walked a different path. I simply know what their missing. But its best that they don't. I wouldn't want them to be disappointed at some of the true beautiful things that things huge barren state holds. I don't know, thoughts.

Memories from the Philippines have been in my head. I've always wanted to go back. I hold that place so dear. My first memories are there. My first acknowledgements of love, kindness and the humbling effect of poverty are there. The greenest greens are there and the strange markets are there.

Then my focus shifts to closer places.

Deep woods and flatlands of Florida.

Rocky beaches and cold winds of California.

And I'm just suffocating now in Texas, shaking slightly in my chair and wondering if June could come any slower.
Prepare for release.
Patience.
Hmm.

Yesterday was something of an escape if you will. Hung out with a brilliant mind/walking encyclopedia. Saw a movie. Went to eat. Learned about helicopters and heard his stories. Fucking hell mister, I tell you. Some of the things he's been through. I just sat there feeling useless and space taking. I mean if things could have gone wrong.

Sigh.

Some things make you dream different.

And the syringes in my dreams today… they weren't pretty.

And as the glass of one of them cracked in my hands I started to get dizzy, hearing the music behind me and feeling the hands on my chest.

Beautiful.