Nothing reminds me of her. And I’m not sure if that is wonderful or tragic. What I’m hearing today is reminiscent of someone long ago, most certainly a stranger. I have memories of her with no memories of being her. But yet, my mother spoke to her today–hours ago–and it just now hits me…as I sit here now with an empty mind, in a space that I can’t share with anyone.
Reaching even further back to see that someone of years past peeking through, looming, foreshadowing the trauma to soon come.
How could I have been so misleading?
Another train ride in the dark. Stark reminders of how my rhythm has never been on beat. I never did focus much on playing drum set. The train car has grown quiet and still while I’m louder than the sun. These situations exist only to remind me of my mind, how it clings to darkness for movement. But it isn’t scattered. It isn’t scattered.
Too dark to see out the window–or too light. It’s a trap. Reflections should be sought after, not forced. Too much being forced these days…
political correctnes, religion, acceptance, happiness: (Are your pictures of you happier than you are?)
stop forcing it. like I’m doing now.
Look: Evolve 