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The brain is a pretty rad little doodad. Sitting atop your neck, buzzing with blood and budding thoughts like an apple tree in spring.
I think it's fascinating that we're still quire clueless as to how it really works.
There's one particular part that still fascinates me, namely, memory.

Memories are the cranial equivalent of keeping a diary or writing in a journal. a collection of feelings and happenings of days gone by and words once said.
There are a few journal entries, if you will, that stand out to me. Ones I made with a girl... let's call her B.

If B were here right now, I'd look her in her big brown eyes and ask her:

Do you remember?

Do you remember the divine way the curves of your body fit into mine was we lay in an amorous embrace amongst the blankets and downy pillows?

Do you remember the way I told you a million times that I loved your hair. Your angelic, graceful hair, even though you thought it was too long and too messy?

How we walked through the forest for hours, talking about nothing and nonsense, and how we sat on a log for what seemed like eternity until I manufactured enough courage to finally kiss you?

They say that elephants never forget, and every time you cross my mind I feel my nose getting a little longer and my skin turning a little greyer.

Do you remember? Because I sure as hell do.

Do you remember how adorable you looked in those pajama pants of mine that were about a foot too long for you because you forgot to bring your own?

Do you remember how we sat on a bench and watched the birds flit from feeder to feeder as the sun waved us a crimson farewell?

Do you remember the feeling of your lips upon my lips, and the simple fact that it is impossible to properly describe that in any banal combination of 26 tired characters?

Do you remember the bittersweet intermingling of the smells of my eighty dollar cologne and your forty dollar shampoo?

Do you remember the way we looked into each other’s eyes? The vast universes of possibilities leaping from neuron to neuron behind those irises?

Wonderful memories. Pleasant memories. You couldn’t ask for anything better than these kind of memories. But there’s more. And there’s a reason why they’re just memories.

I remember the way the blood drained from my face like your used bath water circled the drain in my bathtub, and how my heart went on strike and stopped beating when you told me we couldn’t be together.

I remember how similar the crunch of the leaves and twigs under our booted feet sounded to the cracking and shattering of my sanity as you drove away on that sombre day.

I remember all of the dreams my brain pumped out of its pitiful pineal gland in a futile attempt to travel back in time.

I remember the empty spot in my bed and the gaping and gushing hole in my heart that still exists
To
This
Day.

But for all of these melancholy memories, these rotten ruminations, the beast of anger has yet to rear its matted mane.

In fact,

I thank you.

I thank you for this sadness, this regret, this longing, and this acute absence of rage,

For it is proof that I am alive.

I thank you for this sorrow, for this awful ammunition, for inspiration to machine masterpieces from the melancholy.

For what is light without darkness?

What is life without death, and love without loss?

So thank you.

I look back on our shared seconds not with eyes full of misplaced malice and fury,

But with gratitude.

Because even through tragedy

The heart survives.
https://soundcloud.com/blaxstronaut/memories
 Mar 2013 michelle reicks
JL
She let me put my **** in
Leading me inside with her
Shaking ashen fingertips
Embedding her ember eyes like
Molten buckshot beneath the skin
Her fake moans
See-through writhing hips
Begging for it

Until like midnight strikes
Fingertips behind my eye lids
Timid her lips pressed
Wet and ripe
Against me
Red lips archaic and distant
I have rent the curtain
That led to the holiest of holies
Now it is only a matter of time
Before she forgets my name
Before she let's his name slip through her lips
And I bash the mirror with my fist again
Imagining it is her
Frail rib cage beneath
My gashed oozing knuckles
Three fingers in
A warm tongue slides against my brain
She ***** the weak ones like me
Breaking us in
Making the next goodbye easier
Her television dramatics
Slamming doors and suitcases
Raise a fuss from the neighbors With itchy ears
Pressed against the walls
Furiously they ******* to the
Sound of her fists thudding weakly against my chest
Tears dripping from my cheeks or hers
You *****
They hang on our words
Like scarecrows in an autumn wind
 Mar 2013 michelle reicks
Sarina
I want you to hurt me

I want to be reminded that I am never alone,
that hundreds of bacteria are following
that plants are alive except when they brown

I want you to ****
every little thing that is wrong with me

I want the wallpaper to peel & drape over us
while we touch I want to
reveal the ugly parts of everything else

I want you to unzip my dress
and tongue where my spine ends

I want these moments to be enough for fairies
to permeate my intestines with glitter
so I can look pretty when you break my heart.
to know your skin
is to know the turmoil of creation
you are the visceral
the primal roar
urging its way out

i will shape you
mold you out of sand
draw your pleasure out
and ruin your salvation

you've given me a taste
so now i'll sniff out your blood
and crawl my way over
and snarl and scratch at you
and feast on your flesh
When the girl with sunken eyes
and white lips mutters to herself on
the subway, remind her that there are
plenty of things to worry about, but for her,
losing weight isn't one of them.

When she gets off at your stop,
invite her for coffee. Even if her
eyes are throwing daggers at you,
and even if every instinct in a normal person
would be yelling that her track marks are just that,
track marks, and for all you know
she might just shove a letter opener into
your stomach for the contents of your pockets.
A few bucks for another spoonful of hell.

Lace your fingers in hers after she reluctantly
agrees, and without missing a beat,
talk about how no girl should pass up free coffee
or free alcohol. After all, there is the
economy to think about.

Gossip to her about people you
pass on the street, and when she settles
into her signature silence, tell her about
how you love to make up life stories
for the people you see outside your
apartment window, and how you've never
admitted that to anyone else.

When she leaves, after a warm vanilla latte
and two cinnamon bagels, tell her that
you should do this again sometime,
and make plans to meet her again next week.

When next week rolls around, don't be
surprised to see your alley rat friend
missing.  Instead, smile and think about
all the important reasons she couldn't make it.
Like staying in to finish a term paper for law school,
or picking up an extra shift at the local volunteer hospital.

Then turn to the little boy next to you,
scared, *****, and without parents,
and offer to walk him to the local church center.
Because these days, no one should have to feel alone.
Written late at night, finished the next morning. Love to hear what you think, especially on the title and the last few lines.

EDITTED!!
It was very kind of you to ask how I am holding up all things considered...

The short answer is that I am okay.

I do not hunger nor do I have thirst... I am warm...and other than the usual aches and discomfort that we all experience I am not in pain...

I have been okay for a very long time it's kind of my way of knowing that I am in that sweet spot of homeostasis I think that's why I ended up leaving because I couldn't remember  being anything other than simply okay...

I don't think I want to be okay...

You remember those adventures we used to have together and you'd always have these crazy ideas that you just needed to hash out...

And I was always there...

In part because I wanted to make sure you were okay but I think a much bigger part of me enjoyed those days so much more because while you were out there living life and occasionally getting hurt but loving every minute of it...

And I felt like part of it...

We kind of grew apart...

The adventures stopped...

And I guess we grew up a little somewhere in that time as well...

Became our own people...

And that was necessary...
    
And the process went okay...
          
And I turned out okay...

I made new friends and they became happy and I tried to be happy and I started dating again and I thought I had it figured out this time but I was just okay with a smile. and then I was looking at her smile and she was happy because of my smile but I wasn't happy...

I was just okay...

But she was happy as far as I could tell and I wanted to protect her happiness because I wanted her to be happy so I kept smiling... and I felt like a liar every time but the truth seemed so wrong... all that mattered was that she was happy

I wanted nothing more than for her to remain happy...

And then I didn't...

And then I left...

So yeah the short answer is that I'm okay...but that ain't the whole story...
i had a *****
when you left
which subsided
in the fifteen
minutes it took
to realize you
weren't coming
back.

when i couldn't
write a poem
about you,
i realized what
you'd done.

"you son of a
*****," i yelled
as i walked into
the bedroom,
where we'd once
made something
of love.

knowing you'd
never hear it.

knowing that,
of everything i
had given away,
you had taken
the few words
i had kept for
myself.

read the following
under a false
pretense:

i am the bird,
you are the plane
that swallows
and hurls me
back to the earth
again,

to discover
myself one
more time.

i have your
memory,
your smile,
and your
silence.

and i intend
on being selfish
with what i
earned.
when you
thought i was
sleeping,

i was pulling
the breath
out of your
lungs.

scaling your
throat, deep
into your core.

the rope strains
and breaks
between your
teeth.

you feel it
and remember
the way god
feels in your
stomach,

the fear of hell,
and of waiting
rooms,

the thought that
someone out there
had, at least once,
thought of
you.

this poem is
for the dreams
you’ll never
realize.

this poem is
for the words
i want to shove
through your ear
and into your
heart.

this is for one
night, a thousand
miles away
from here,

when you
say good night
to a man you
can never love,
force your head
down on your pillow
and remember
that you had been
loved at least
once.

you are
the only
science
i’ll ever
know,

the only
pieces i want
to add and
subtract.

connecting
the arms,
the head,
the ****,
the heart,

and breathing
what life i
have left
into you.

i hope you
remember
how that
feels.
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