The fluttering of eyelids breathed new life into the moments caught like fresh Polaroid snaps, the afterburn of the camera flash persisting, like a memory that fought its way to remain, resisting time and wear til the end.

The flesh knows the aching, burning want. The mind knows the still, cold pools of fools, the soul rolling with the blows of said fools, who thought time as it was would never be everlasting : A shrieking defiance, with the Chariot being pulled along by hanged men ; an everlasting idiocy.

But dreams & memories do just that. Syphilis-like consistency, marauding us all with persistent innocent tendencies to drown us in nostalgia, regret and fury. Yet we still have them on repeat. To not have known, is far more terrifying than not knowing. After all, we fear what we don't know. What we don't understand.