Arian Friend
<< 3:40 a.m. - Tuesday, Oct. 28, 2003 >>
Cork bobs in the ocean merrily. And after all this time, she resists the salt water and floats. �Miraculous,� they say. Nothing is miracle I think. Maybe nothing depends on luck. Or those dandelion seeds I am so constantly blowing about the earth. Cork is going under. Lost the will to ebb and flow with the conscious world.

I fell asleep at 5 this afternoon and woke up now. Dreams where I lose my body seem unwaveringly telling. Float backwards now. Sisters hold me; I am weak. I am full of the ocean.

It�s not your fault. Really it�s not. We�ll be friends. And I�ll let go of that. I will make myself rise above.