Fogged Mind
Today is one of those wispy days
soft and muted
melty around the edges
where nothing harms
nothing lasts
nothing does more than brush against your skin
and flits away again
I prefer the harsh, clear, jagged days
sharp and bright
cutting and clear
where everything that hits you is a bruise remembered
everything pixelated and crystallized
frozen in a tableau of garish extremes
screaming against each other
a beacon against the days lost
I'd rather remember everything
than lose the bad
those hellish pictures save me from myself you know
and yet
darkness
silence
when I lose them into the fog
when I forget
when I let it disappear
it feels exquisite
does the fog swallow me?
or do I submerge myself?
do I let go because it's easier?
or because I can't hold on?
do I really give freely?
or is it taken from me?
and if it wasn't....
if it wasn't...
would I still be sane?
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