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   POETRY > Poem #179

The conscious mind has slumbered, eyes closed, mouth in repose. In the realm of the subconscious, your memories, faded and fresh, rusted and sharp....

they come back to you like flood --

(like brief flashes of light)

Like pain.

Like laughter.

Like sunshine and rain.

Expensive. Chaste --

(like a virgin's kiss)

Dazed and Confused. You know that song?

Like the mind is trapped, unable to tell things apart. Your memories are identical. They're all...you.

And so sometimes, you find that someone has died and you're laughing and there's booger on your finger and you're in school. You're not wearing any clothes.

And shattered words.

Sometimes, the memories are so many you can't dream them all in one night. This is you.... This is all of you.

Heartbreak and ribbons. Cake. Roses and peach. Peanut butter-knives...

(like fragile smiles)

Shoes.... Heels? Sneakers. You live fast; sturdy legs and laughing heart.

Books. Paper clips and broomsCottonCoffeesongsaviorlove

-- and shattered hearts.

When you run out of memories, would you still wake up?

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