seaside's whispers

the sun dragged itself out like a rusted key, and i just picked up my camera because something felt wrong. i kept thinking about greenhouses and how they smell like regret. neighbors here are just a blur-watch them drive, but they’re still stuck at 45, never really letting go. i’ve heard whispers of old dock systems, maybe someone’s been keeping secrets under floorboards. reviews? whoever’s listening, i hear something raw, somethin’ you shouldn’t hear here. people say it’s just life, but the humidity… it’s holding my breath. i even took a photo of that bend in the road-now i’m stuck snapping it again. some say seaside’s got a mind of its own. i don’t know what madness flow forms here, but i’ll just sit and watch the tide roll.

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