We ain't sure, I mean AI ain't fully a wayback machine,
because there's these
pay walls, and the gates are guarded by **** site viruses
that will
hook you if you look, curiously enough,
any thing the kinks could find
kept getting harder to find,
you can get it, on rt 66,

or what remains of the road, in minds of those who
hitched it, both directions,
drove in a big golden semi, during CRST apprenticeship
failure for inattention to mirrors,

"he's lost his mirrors", I over heard.
Thus I was fired because the most important part
of freight haulin'
is slow backing into spaces precisely one trailer wide,

bump bump bump. Each bump has a story,
each has a moral as any story self-evident does.
- story looks at you, in those now found mirrors
- a haul of mirrors, shards of some
- now play fractal source of confusion as to
what
were we thinking?

One day she just stopped talking,
so I stopped too
I don't know if that's what she wanted,
It’s just her words became few
I thought I’d give her some flowers
Maybe somehow I’d get through
The flowers weren’t as pretty as her
But she stopped seeing too
Now I just visit and I hold her
At least she still feels the same
She’s still as beautiful as she always been
Though she barely knows my name

you showed me love
you taught me the beauty of forgiveness
you taught me to laugh
but your eyes don't smile at me anymore
they're enveloped in a suffocating fog
this emptiness weighs
I can't find words
That can cover the silence you left

Your eyes don't see me
I talk to you and you don't hear me
I can't reach you
A layer of rubber covers you
I would like to tear it up
and yell at you
All my love
All the love you gave me
My pain feeds on
your unwitting words
Fragments of you lost
One tear at a time
Fragments of me torn
Thrown into your oblivion
A crumbling rock
I fight with a sword of nothing
I can't win
I can't save you
I can only love you

Mit ihren knochigen, altersbefleckten Fingern
wühlt sie umständlich
in ihrer zerschlissenen Handtasche

und sucht
nach dem gestrigen Tag

Memories are playing from my mind

Like dandelion that flutters with the wind

They enticingly caressing me

As they fades towards the never land

Zegen me o heer

Endless stream of time~

Slithering around inviting me

Like poignant music that never stops to rhyme

On its way to never land

Zegen me o heer

My burning soul, now turning cold

Slowly losing the flames, I once hold

Forgive me for I can no longer cope up

For even in the smallest thing, I blowup

Het spijt me

Strangers around me starts increasing

While gradually losing love ones

As I'm aging

Please stay for soon I'll be leaving

-dnlbllrd

I can't remember,
I can't understand,
I don't have concept of things,
My mind is leaking.
Don't leave me,please,
Give me a kiss on the cheek,
Hold my hand.
I am sick, sad and tired,
Be patient with me,
Don't think I am giving you a hard time,
I am having a hard time.
Keep me away from crowds and noises,
I hate them.
I may not answer,
I may be abrupt,
Don't take it to heart,
Still talk to me.
Don't lecture or argue,
My mind hurts,
Instead agree.
I am a lonely soul,
Give me a hint of kindness.
14/11/2019

The colors of your memory, you can no longer contrast as they swirl into one another.At times they are vibrant as though you are vividly living them experiencing them,and at times they are dull as though they have faded and been acid washed.

Your past slips into the present and present slips into the past. Some days you love me;as though it was the first time you are holding me in the palms of promises. But there are days when my name never slips your tongue and I am a mere stranger to you.

The memories are no longer stored in your mind, but on gigabytes that I have to play – that has become your storage and retrieval. Your memory has become pixelated, but you can no longer remember them as though it was your own.

Some days you’re on a carousel of memories in your mind; revering and your tongue has forgotten its language. At times you speak eloquently, but at times they are stars that are unlinked and lost. You used to weave constellations but now it’s difficult to put in a thread into the needle.

Thread of your memories begins to wear and the tales woven through ancestry fray with details as the world slips away and the thread unwinds. You try revising the tales, but the thinning at ends of your recollection slowly fades.

The scent infused with ambiance sends echoes of familiar places, resulting in you having spasms of remembrance while the flutters of moth wings beat at the edge of your mind.

There are days when you become a shell of yourself, as your pupils remain fragments detached from reality. I watch you as you wind yourself back in front of my eyes. Ebbing and flowing, freezing and releasing; trying to make sense of the confusion and panic that riles in your mind.

Though you feel, your stars are growing cold and feel like an ethereal that has collapsed, your smile is still the brightest star in the furthest galaxy. It is made of combustion of crimson blue yonder and candy hues.

Though your palms are dreams wrinkled dry, and your memories are falling like baby tooth, as the color of your speech is bleached and you frantically scavenge for memories to ground and make sense - I’ll be there to hold your scattered mind with patience and love you the days you won’t remember me as your own