I Remember A Mat With Roads And Buildings Printed On,
I Never Liked Toy Cars But I Liked The Mat.

I Remember Fleeting Details More Than Whole Scenes,
Fractured Spiderwebs Of Memory Singed To The Synapse.

I Wouldn't Have It Any Different,
I Wouldn't Bond These Broken Shards Of Thoughts To Form A Whole.

I Am Happily Secure With My Internal Black Hole.
I Am Hopelessly In Love With The Absence Of My Soul.
I Am Helplessly Addicted To Memories That I've Stole.