how strange memory is...
like a sheet of thin linen
draped over ones eyes
like a warm ghost
passing through thought
like a SoCal breeze
dripping in color
memory forever glazes the present with your past.
it is something like a paper with all its characters brutally erased;
yet one can still see that markings were once present.
what is left is merely an imprint of what once was
a fleeting thought
a vivid sense
a bottled impulse
staining the walls of unconsciousness with its pungent aroma
