when new memories are not being made
and the old ones fade
its easy to think that your feelings
are going away.  

my emotions are attached to images
fact or fiction
and my days are filled with dreams
my nights, the same

where i can make those missing connections
and  my memory sparks emotion
between the smoke and mirrors

dark was the start, as was the end
now i will be the spark
and you  be the flame.

When my mind turns you off
My heart dreams
And when i think of what i should say
I still dream the wrong thing
It’s all in my head
That you’re still in my bed
And I sleep in to keep memories real
Because in that moment , they are
Fleeting moments that i turn into
Faulty memories, all in vain
Daylight filled with opportunity
To forget
Because my dreams won’t let me.

Feels trickle down
Waves come around
Momentarily.

Similar scenes in reverse
Never reach what’s first
Buried.

A rhyme to remember
Fails to return to sender.
Wanderer.

Keep it inside
You already lied.
Tongue-tied.

I feel like nothing.  something wanting to want anything. failing to find meaning.  Diving deep inside my being with nothing to be seen.  

A switch with no on button.  A battery one-sided confiding within.  Coal with no need for diamonds.  A clam spitting out sand and diving.  A bull running away from red.  And a mule who hates other mules.  

A pebble dropped in my puddle.  

A well is all dried and set aflame with dead leaves.  A flower for a fire and a cold flame buried by a ghost.  hopes for the past in a meaningless circle digging deeper with each motion.  

The pebble sank and met another pebble at the bottom where they ground each other into non-existence.  

You have involuntarily decided my fate.  it's okay.  Nothing is a team effort.  We win alone and die alone.  A nothing.  Aspiring nothingness.  Nearly impossible.  Not even plausible.  I desire myself.  And the things that I love are always hurt.

Discoveries leading to disconnect
A sunset of discontent

Melodies of sweet romance
And sense enough to smell a scent

Revolutionary holograms shining
Between sweeping paradigms

Better Us and the rest of You
Hallucinating in to a lesser truth

Deep down.  
Underneath.

there wouldn't be a beginning or an end
without a middle.  
start big and end big,
with a little middle.

changing while softly slipping.
constantly moving with never enough room.
ending right in the middle of beginning
and always, too soon.

we feel nothing for the shapes of things.
we dive down in search for our wings
but first,
a few more hours of circling.

a spoonful of memories is all we need now.
better than handfuls of dust
or hinges with rust
anyhow.

draw us a picture without any clues,
and we'll sing you a song
describing the news.

come one
and come another,
but dont tell anyone
for they will be a bother.

there will be fresh secrets for all,
and nothing to remember or forget
provided one answers the call.
albeit, maybe none is met,
and we actually do forget.

what are we supposed to mean
when we are believing when we should be doubting?
what a scene
when it is actually seen.

isn't a bit freeing
when you're forgetting?

but why do i always remember the ending the best?