Two Shells

My mind is clicking, clicking like the ticking of the night.  Restless fireflies or some edgy eddies in a river too unknown.  Oh how confusing it's been, how blissfully confusing.  I try to keep my head upright but it's as if my boat's been capsized and turned over and over in the spiralling web of some waterfall spider who will consume me early next morning.  I am spinning round and round, reaching the surface  long enough to take a shallow breath before I'm plunged into the dark world once again.  I'm tired, aren't you?

What does it all mean?  These scribbles in my notebook?  The morning is cold, cold and I've been thinking of you since I don't know when.  I've romanticized you.  Oh the horror!  I'll never come up for air again!

I have two shells in my pocket for you.  I'm waiting.  I want to give them to you but how and why?  Because I think you'll like them, because I think they're beautiful, because they remind me of a freer time, an uninhibited time, because I cannot give what I want to give.  I only have these two hard shells, white with affection.  Two shells to say everything I can't explain.