I write and remember and I remember and write, constant cyclical patterns that make my nights easier because sometimes my thought bank is too full. And then I dream about being kissed and ignored and kissed and taunted- I feel like a donkey with a carrot in front of its nose to make it run.
I could click click and pretend to forget, but I wont be able to surpress my urge, and since when do I surpress urges? I have the appetite of a overweight school teacher, and not just for food, for knowledge, for eternity.
its easier to cut open my own wounds and treat than to heal the ones that I have. I feel like my summer was perfectly described in one big crash and then i ended up losing the thing I thought was most important, but really in the end, its still just me. I change the way I write my 9's, my Q's all the time, I change everything and yet i am constantly reminded because a part of me is reluctant to let go of memory. I'll have better memory. I;ll remmember more and forget more because I;ll write it down. My dreams will soar out of those church habitat windows that will offer refuge to everything and surrounding folk will occupy my hands and habits.