The hole

Digging myself out
of the trapped nerve pit
Digging myself out
from the mire and pointless dirt
Finding myself out
the secrets uncovered and revealed to the self
Things I never knew
I never knew them
These are the shreds of yesterday’s
residual intercellular currents


Memories are imprints we never know why
one survives and the ones that die we never know why

Forming them takes in sensual connections we can not predict
the playground antics, the fun parks rides and strange gardens
we visited when very young with a grubby face

preservation of image carries no weight
preservation of sounds carries no vision
preserved touches are no longer present


What we learn by repetition and weave the fabric that belies experiences but my fabric is a different pattern to yours
and so I remember different details and dream different thoughts
the jigsaw does not fit if the tilt wears off in different directions

The colours run but can not mix, do they sit together without dissonance?

We learn to be as one when we have fun