there is a portion of time somewhere in me, blocked off in chunks of pre-me, 'me' being the current and up to date version, that spent itself in constant motion. moment chained to moment with shackles made partially of vibrance and partially of adrenaline dipped in a rainbow well of emotion. sleep was for the weak and what little bit i dabbled in came in spurts and was usually never in the same place.
every night was an adventure, a quest, a party and i reveled. amidst this revelry there was a girl. she was an angel, or dressed like one anyway. so i took her with me. i brought her home once, though not my home. nor hers. and only once. in this time and place, faces melted from one to another and very few of us stayed the same, so hers was noticed only because it was near mine.
in a half a dozen cycles of the moon i learned i'd made a mistake. this, in a time when mistakes did not exist. and so i waited patiently for this mistake to go away. eventually it did, to baltimore in fact.
my life is now made of mistakes. or perhaps i just notice them now, which is probably more in line with truth or at least lying side by side with it. sleep is now a close friend and there is now a place named home.
she is a fading memory, for which i am glad. her image was the first to go. now her name. and since very few of my friends even met her it is as though she never existed. and so it begins, this mistake is now the first to be erased and of that....i'm not sure how i feel.
every night was an adventure, a quest, a party and i reveled. amidst this revelry there was a girl. she was an angel, or dressed like one anyway. so i took her with me. i brought her home once, though not my home. nor hers. and only once. in this time and place, faces melted from one to another and very few of us stayed the same, so hers was noticed only because it was near mine.
in a half a dozen cycles of the moon i learned i'd made a mistake. this, in a time when mistakes did not exist. and so i waited patiently for this mistake to go away. eventually it did, to baltimore in fact.
my life is now made of mistakes. or perhaps i just notice them now, which is probably more in line with truth or at least lying side by side with it. sleep is now a close friend and there is now a place named home.
she is a fading memory, for which i am glad. her image was the first to go. now her name. and since very few of my friends even met her it is as though she never existed. and so it begins, this mistake is now the first to be erased and of that....i'm not sure how i feel.
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