Memories
2019
I have remembered this before, this moment that walked with me.
I tread steady with my back laden insignia of memory,
I recall all moments before me in every action I swing my arms at,
each time the memory warps,
fades or facades itself,
soft spooning into my currency,
my today, all value I dream I own,
but the moment,
rather than the memory,
is so far from what really was,
I can lie to console myself about the horrible words written on tongues of those who strung pain against my hairs,
but truth is,
most of our words, were lovely and beautiful,
so I can’t betray the moments with my decaying memory.
I want the moments,
as they were,
not in the way which my memory has replayed to me in order to progress,
heel to toe, and back again.
I cannot let my memories betray all of the beauty when I am all anger and fury.
Rather close my eyes, for just a moment and ask how was it then, before all anger and fury.
That, that is the truth. And that vilifying repetition is just us failing to see.
I tread steady with my back laden insignia of memory,
I recall all moments before me in every action I swing my arms at,
each time the memory warps,
fades or facades itself,
soft spooning into my currency,
my today, all value I dream I own,
but the moment,
rather than the memory,
is so far from what really was,
I can lie to console myself about the horrible words written on tongues of those who strung pain against my hairs,
but truth is,
most of our words, were lovely and beautiful,
so I can’t betray the moments with my decaying memory.
I want the moments,
as they were,
not in the way which my memory has replayed to me in order to progress,
heel to toe, and back again.
I cannot let my memories betray all of the beauty when I am all anger and fury.
Rather close my eyes, for just a moment and ask how was it then, before all anger and fury.
That, that is the truth. And that vilifying repetition is just us failing to see.
