And then there's the image of his silhouette from the aperture; And then there's the
searing pain that burns in my chest; And then there's the tinnitus followed by
shortness of breath; And then there's this memory that doesn't speak.
The current flows continuously, it was a river of cold, liquid penumbra that holds me tightly. The friction of our silent battle was a sharp pang of distress that causes disorder. The vibrations are constantly tuning and was left behind in space and time like a nightmare that has to be forgotten.
I am careless. I am a miser of my own memories. I looked backward for a while,
I restored it, I rendered it and I couldn't bear to look forward anymore.
I was so embraced with the idea. It hanged around my neck like a noose that's trying to choke me.
I was so trapped with the thought and I realized that I have no power...
because the power to forget is a necessary condition for our existence.
And I am wishing that my life will fade behind me until it leaves a dwindling trail of
images until all I can remember is a name.
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