raw nerve endings

mood: just a little empty.
state i'm in: in somnus; mildly inebriated.
tune: patty griffin 'nobody's crying'.


walking down to catch the citycat into work.


there's cut grass in the cracks in the foot path, slowly dessicating; the park i walk through is lush like a jungle, the green grass is thick; the viscous voice of a young boston folk singer on my headphones; a flock of startled swallows flies out from the citycat pier like a the fibres of an old dandelion flower, blown away by a child's wish; a father holds his young son, amazed, arms outstretched, at the sight; the fluffy and wispy white clouds hanging in the sky; the roar of the citycat's engines chewing up some diesel as we traverse the river's reaches; a plane sails in over the western suburbs - if only it would take away my loneliness.

alone in one of the most crowded citycat i have been on in recent memory.

the silver lining of the cloud of loneliness is the heightened sensory awareness one feels. my sensory nerve endings feel raw, pruned of their filters. bittersweet, it's something i enjoy. but i long for the return to numbness. strange?