There's a building to the right, which once had a strange thing poke it's head over the edge as I walked past the threshold of this lot. I don't remember the conversation, but I remember being allowed to pass. Maybe I was supposed to be here. Who knows?
There are these tiny boxes, divided in half, past the threshold, between car parking lines. Each is enough to be a bit of a coffin for one individual, with a slot for mail on the end. They had a single colored light in each one, though it may have been the same for each, I cannot recall now. I remember living in one for a time. I remember someone visiting, and I remember being invited to leave.
There's a building with a window not far in to the left, I remember being offered a fast food stop at that window, and I remember trying to rob something inside that window. There's no business there, but what does that even mean now? How long ago was this? How real was it to begin with?
There's one last place I can't mention, as it's not my place to reveal. But I remember being killed there, and watching the clouds surround the bench there. I remember water balloon fights and pool parties. Was this another life or an abstract construct of distant places converging on similar architecture?
There's no reason for any of this to be true or untrue. I am just tired of remembering things that I can't justify as real in my present condition. I'm sorry if I offended former friends and allies. But something went horribly wrong and I stand alone in a field of broken dreams. I'm not surprised if you forgot in my stead.
No sadness, no remorse, no guilt. Better times come around when we remember who we are, is what hope I hold.
No comments:
Post a Comment