archabane

Immerse yourself in the mundane way little bits of plastic fall on the ground like cursed see-through stones amble along cool brown dirt fields walk shoeless and hope you don't puncture your heel on a cool brown nail that makes you think of tetanus shots and fingers scraping down a chalkboard at school when you were young and the world was cleaner Sit on broken benches and resist the urge to rock back and forth (just once) and ignore the super hipsters the gadflies, the wenches clad in bling bling black leather that squeaks like dying mice when they ape-hop by you Trace your finger along the wall of a condemned building

I want to make pasts go away--wipe my glassy cortex clean and watch as memory fades and the mouths of time suck the details from existence like paint thinner on Rembrandt.  I burn them all: the specifics of the first kiss and the way it felt, the unbearable image of a family member passing away--last grains disappearing all too fast through the narrow waist of life's hourglass, the sweet smell of a grass yard when a lawnmower chops down the old grass to make room for younger blades under the surface.  The faces of everyone I knew in High School--I'll warp them all into one homogenous, asexual glob of a person.  The places I visited during my