I remember the T.T on the front screen tv,
I remember the wooden table outside, with perched prose inscribed
I remember knocking myself out on the door **** **** that I am adorned.
The video games
Plastered on the monitor
Excessive violence on demand.
I remember Sunday lunches
And the soggy Yorkshire pudding bases
And the ham, bear shaped and broken out from plastic cages on demand.
I remember the late nights playing board games,
The laughter cacophony ensuing
The vivid images and 3D activity represented on the big wooden table top purview,
I can't remember what the tabletop looks like... A shame
I remember sitting in the car unable to breathe,
I remember the recycled oxygen,
The time we nearly died on the roundabout,
The times we looked at air rifle paraphernalia.
The times we smiled together.
The arguments,
And conversations,
The silence
And sleep...
And questioning glares everytime I asked permission to make myself a drink
The awkwardness
The times we walked to the corner shop
Or took a drive somewhere or someplace,
The time I picked flowers and got a bollocking
The skin that felt empty and conceited.
The blooded scratch marks hidden under sleeves,
The scratching, allergies,
Dripping noses, headaches,
The mass of energy in front of me.
The unconscious predispositions,
The illness that came every morning,
The return home to certainty
And mostly the fluctuating sense of existential ambiguity.
The times we went on holiday and flooded the car with gear,
I remember the constant uneasiness,
The commentaries that rounded every corner
The time you turned yellow,
The overwhelming desire for love,
I remember the attempts to connect
The feelings of rejection and isolation
The awkwardness.
And love,
And memories that die with me.
I remember you daily, live you eternally,
I find myself caught in a web spun,
And thus
I try not to remember you
Too much.
I apologise for these thoughts,
But not to you,
But to the others I love,
Whom it may hurt.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
I remember the T.T on the front screen tv,
I remember the wooden table outside, with perched prose inscribed
I remember knocking myself out on the door **** **** that I am adorned.
The video games
Plastered on the monitor
Excessive violence on demand.
I remember Sunday lunches
And the soggy Yorkshire pudding bases
And the ham, bear shaped and broken out from plastic cages on demand.
I remember the late nights playing board games,
The laughter cacophony ensuing
The vivid images and 3D activity represented on the big wooden table top purview,
I can't remember what the tabletop looks like... A shame
I remember sitting in the car unable to breathe,
I remember the recycled oxygen,
The time we nearly died on the roundabout,
The times we looked at air rifle paraphernalia.
The times we smiled together.
The arguments,
And conversations,
The silence
And sleep...
And questioning glares everytime I asked permission to make myself a drink
The awkwardness
The times we walked to the corner shop
Or took a drive somewhere or someplace,
The time I picked flowers and got a bollocking
The skin that felt empty and conceited.
The blooded scratch marks hidden under sleeves,
The scratching, allergies,
Dripping noses, headaches,
The mass of energy in front of me.
The unconscious predispositions,
The illness that came every morning,
The return home to certainty
And mostly the fluctuating sense of existential ambiguity.
The times we went on holiday and flooded the car with gear,
I remember the constant uneasiness,
The commentaries that rounded every corner
The time you turned yellow,
The overwhelming desire for love,
I remember the attempts to connect
The feelings of rejection and isolation
The awkwardness.
And love,
And memories that die with me.
I remember you daily, live you eternally,
I find myself caught in a web spun,
And thus
I try not to remember you
Too much.
I apologise for these thoughts,
But not to you,
But to the others I love,
Whom it may hurt.