It is a beach that I love, the sand grinds beneath my toes. The waves roll in crests, I savor it all. Can I stay here forever? No, I think not. I cannot stay and look at the dunes, as they wave in the wind. I cannot sleep in the ruins; they are for ghosts. I feel my heart want to burst. This place owns it, has a leash around it. Why do I feel this way? I hope I am sane. I do not think I am.

The water slips near my legs. The tide is coming in. I pace the beach, until the tide breaks. Starfish and horseshoes are left to die. I try to help them. I scoop them into my fingers; they flop lazily. The life wants to leave them. I give all I can back to the ocean, but I cannot help most.

I wander into the dunes, the dirt scratching at my feet. Amongst the puss- willows I sit on my knees. Tears stream down my cheeks, hotly exploring my skin. They run rivulets in the grime. My muscles shudder. Why am I crying? They are fish. Fish, dying for breath. Screaming for someone to help them. But no one will come. I know that now. I know no one cares. They are wrapped up in their own lives, selfishly distancing themselves from anything or anyone in need of salvation. And then I realize, it does not matter. Time takes away all. I slip into the ruins and lay stretched out on a piece of stone.

Yes, the ruins are the home of specters, but I decide that I will eventually become one of them, and that it does not matter. I close my eyes, and drift into the land of dreams.