Tuesday, January 4, 2011
you or your memory
the lights illuminate it enough to see how empty it is and make the sky look streaky. i wish you would put your sunglasses back on so i wouldn't see that you're crying. i would cry but i feel nothing. i feel as nothing as when we were in the car and the rain was streaming down the window, mixing the colors of the aureate gaslights together, and it feels so familiar it seems like more than a memory; like an engram that is part of me now. i want to smoke because i don't know what to do with my hands, but i don't smoke and i don't know if starting smoking is a good solution. driving away and leaving this nothing behind is the solution, but no matter how fast i go i know i won't lose it. it's ironic; how can you lose something that is devoid? it was everything and now it has gone and i am scared of the space it left.