I’m sorry I couldn’t forget,
but you’re my first memory

I’m sorry you left,
it’s brutal how you
were able to forget
as I kept remembering,
bleeding,
and remembering still

I beg of you to forget me,
so I can forget me too

Let me keep my life,
and you keep yours

I stare out my window,
Waiting for you my love,
Trying so hard to stand still,
So you recognize me
Even if I’ve grown old and wrinkled,
And my dear, please don’t cry,
As my flowers by my window wilt
Call 911 they need some help.

Please, Please don’t let them die.
Since you left,They have been my only friend
Since you left, they learned to love me
Since you left I’ve grown to love my flowers,  maybe It was wiser For them to wilt before me,
They loved me more than I loved them.

They couldn’t handle the pain of seeing me
Pass away by my window,
Waiting for you.

Yes, I do,
remember being twenty-two.

Being vapid.
Doing things stupid.
Running around without a care,
despite the scare,
still with a lot of things to spare.

And yet also on this very bed,
every night,
over naught,
agonising...
Knowing I could never do nothing,
of the future to come, powerless,
yet, all at once, fearless.

All in all, it was... confusing,...
Yet now,... old and wrinkly,... reminiscing.

Come to me,
Oh look and see,
Please tell me that I don't belong.

To this place,
O' to this world,
To this situation I hath rote.

But negative,
Nay I say,
Tis a situation so grand,
That it can be only sung out in the tongue of yore,
For it is only the most noble of mantles,
Of Fatherhood's door I adorn.

It shall be I,
I be armed with simple tools,
A fresh ***** or bottle,
To assuage my young liege lord's woes,
For betwixt the soggy ure or rancid scitan,
I dread knowing such knowledge,
But my sacred duties of ****** I shan't ignore.

So for now,
Oh humble bards and wanderers,
Listen to this tale no more,
Create such joy and celebration,
For upon this day,
My Firstborn son is born.

I expel smoke into the atmosphere
and think of all my ghosts this year.
I fumble the deck in search of fives
but still find the Jester half alive.
I stumble through old alleys
we used to go to, in search of songs.
But I do nothing right but fill valleys
with all of the right wrongs.
I absorb oaked *** into my veins
and felt hot tears in the rain.
All those moments — lost in time
the second you were no longer mine.

Standing at the ******
I really gotta go

Starting to get ******
Cause I ain't got no flow

I feel the eyes upon me
The pressure starts to mount

A line of guys behind me
More than I can count

If only I were younger
I could **** a hole through steel

Now I just go drip, drip, drip
Seriously what's the deal

My prostate's like a grapefruit
I go five times a night

I haven't slept in fifteen years
It really kind of bites

When I close my eyes the final time
The biggest gift for me

Is when I get to heaven
I won't have to ***

i stood in my new flat today
counting the spins the fan
made in its centre.
an americanism, too out of body
for me to keep an eye on.
what now?
but to wait till the inertion sickness
crawls its way from the soles up to oesophagus.

tilt back till back flat against the black flat floor.
(i hated that sentence but it needed some air.)
wondering if i can melt beneath the new money wood,
can i stand upside down,
ankles halo’d in my space and my head in the neighbours.

the hallway to the bedroom where he sleeps a little more soundly
now i’m out the bed,
dares me to leave him alone.
“you’ve clawed this distance out” i murmur back.
“i can trace it in the skirting boards.”

sitting up i go to close the window
and lock it, unlock it and smile at the little piece of freedom
i can’t ever give back.

a possibility the machine is broken
a pause, a stutter
a halt in locomotion
sometimes the parts wear out
not made for the harsh road
travelled
sometimes a weakness will shout
to demonstrate a need for slowing
but after all we've been through
to be betrayed
this far on the journey
I'd chop you in for a new one
if it weren't for the fact
I'm human

-listen man, I got the internet, in my hand.

There is just too much to think about, So true.
Imagine having all the time in the world to try,
and an ai to sort on my search criteria,
-what would I have loved to know?
outline history, done.
overlay Protestant Bible timeline.
overlay Parthian Empire
etc. BTDT ad infinitum fun item
Ai takes a rough draft life,
and makes all its test phazes open book.

To now. At the speed of that does not matter,
cut to the after the chase,
now, what matters?