i'm folding in on myself. these days. trying to lose significance between the crisp holy pages of books. unsatisfied with the attempt -- unable to break the surfaces. head empty or perhaps too full up. i sit for long moments and think about the smell of the ocean just after a rain. or the garage of my childhood house filled with the scent of car oils and perpetually decaying wood. i wander around this city in which i live. searching for something that i just can't quite remember. all the corners have lost their edges. and i'm numb to the sound.