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All of My Yesterdays
Memories of things, We can only lose. Memories of people Always fuse Memories of light, Memories of night, Of days spent dreaming, Of nightmares dreaded, And bad paths treaded, And today We are alive. What does it mean? I think so I am. I feel because I breathe. My footprints in the sand Time tramples on, And I am forgotten. Stripped of the flesh, Bones from Atoms, Interred and forgotten, Laughter, Tears and farts, And sickness of heart Today In your eyes I am singing, dancing, Soon to be sleeping Where I dream False realities, Of a wishful mind, A tenant renting time, In debt to death Forever, A sobering word For the unknown, The nonexistent That drifts from me, Threatens Everything I am Folded, wrapped tight, Bits and bytes Saved and kept Photographs on mantelpieces, Trinkets and lottery bets, Captured motions, Of reflexes--smile, Moments beguile. Forever and always Today and tomorrow, And yesterdays
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If you knew.
Maybe you do. If so, you should know. Like I know. I sleep and wake up. It's churning my gut and setting the course for my day. I am so afraid to speak of it. I like it and I hate it. And it hurts; in so many ways, it hurts. I want you to feel like I feel. Deal and squeal and reel in the same way, Pound and yearn and ruin your day. And still when you sleep, Wake up to know it might always be this way. I sleep on it. I wake up and think on it. Consider it. Fodder it. Entertain it. Sustain it. Dismiss it. Then I sleep on it. Dream on it. Inspired by it, I wake up. And I linger on it, tinker it, cuddle it, and nurture it ... my heart's full of it.
And the days drift, and I lose it. Then I regain it, pulled from a coil of a dream of it. Then I desire it. I repeat it. And I recycle it. and praise it. And I go on to shape it, imagine it, but never fully grasping it. I owe it, a birth into existence; hence the persistence. I'll never grow it, and I know it, but I put all my hopes on it ... until the day I die. |
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