October 1, 2008
thunderstorms, with a slight chance of sleep
The premise is simple. Erase the memories that are too much to bear. Deep within- I know that it is our memories that shape us, make us who we are. I know that. But since fast-forward or rewind is not at the touch of a button in life, a total erasure would suffice. Today. At least that would allow a clean canvas on which new memories can be painted. I am sure new meanings to old words are just out of reach, waiting to be unlocked. But the truth is until they arrive- I am only floating above myself. All of my senses are askew.
Taste is touch and sound is smell. And my sight? What of it? My eyes have no cause to believe themselves anymore. Gone are the days of convenient linear explanations. Some places are haunted. Not only do I see ghosts. I see epiphanies with my eyes wide shut- the smell of what should be soul-soothing food buried in ear canals. The sound of genuine laughter lodged in nasal passages. Thoughts of warmth are bitter on my tongue.
So strange. Losing thoughts should be no work at all. But it is work. Memories as far as the third eye can see- memories by the plentiful pound. It makes me want to lift out my brain. Have a look inside at what likely resembles a rubber band ball. Deconstruct it for good. Tear the world in two and start all over again. Blink away dream littered days with involuntary ease. But still... no balm to numb my brain. No topical procedure. Only prayers for sleep and hopes for amnesia. I would welcome the newness of confusion with arms wide open. And bask in the eternal sunshine of mental spotlessness.
Posted by
Jayne Neverow
at
4:26 AM
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3 comments:
I've been dealing with memory and its effects this week. And you know what? Sometimes they fade from our consciousness, but under the surface they define so much of who we are and how we act, positively or destructively. (Sometimes the latter more than the former.)
Yes, I can definitely say that I view memory as a dual gift and curse at time.
ah, i see you've been taking a trip through my frontal lobe again. the past few days have been abundant with sightings of the casualties of my recollection. the streets of memory lane damn sure ain't paved with gold!
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