mandiegirl

I went home last weekend and I found this in a really old notebook filled with ramblings and doodlings from long lonely nights of insomnia, back in the day. It’s very incredibly terrible. I was very sad.

Violated by memories, mere memories,
though vivid enough to
make my palms sweat
make me cringe
make me cry.

Confused scared
I do not
(cannot?)
understand why.

They hide in my neurons,
omnipresent,
lurking just underneath the surface,
waiting for an unguarded moment.

Dreams and memories become one,
mixing like so many drops of ink in a pool of water,
so that even as I sleep
I may relive them.
Again.
Again.
Shackled to them,
I wake with tears on my cheeks.