It was unavoidable, like the shifting of the seasons. 

Things were warm, things were cold. Tides rolled in, and manically made waves that evoked abhorrence from cerebral locations engulfed in cobwebs.

My response was retreat. Run. I move faster and further than marathoners.

Nowhere near as healthy. Nowhere near as focused. 

If I intoxicated myself more heavily, the ground would rise up to meet my knees. Its a proven method. 

Ethanol provides the escape that hinders the escape that is reasonably unreasonable. 

I dont expect you to understand, even expect you to reprimand. I just need you to know, I didnt mean to run this far. 

I didnt mean to get so far that i couldnt see you tread the water we once navigated together. I didnt mean to get outside the range of your voice.

Your voice is inaudible behind the waves that clip my heels. 

The waters are as salty as ever and slap pain on every wound Ive ever known or every opening from every spur ive caught in my side that made me run like this.