I shift through carefully stored memories
Heavy with dust,
But yearning still for life.
I touch each with nostalgic need.
Have I already been forgotten?
Am I already stored away in a box,
Aching with desire for remembrance,
Molding with milked talent.
Life into death, death into...
Ah, well, it's nothing anyhow;
Its joy into trauma, luck into misfortune,
Love into hate and all the stuff in between.
But where am I?
Ignore it all,
For I am nothing but a Strange Loop;
A self-deluded self-matrixing machine
Descending into Nothing.
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2 comments:
I don't know how to do this (Blogger). I began a blog a long while ago. The writings of a blogger (prepare yourself) were reading my mind, and lead me here and here I find you are writing my heart.
Thanks, Inner Child. What about it speaks to you?
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