26

feeling nostalgic

about entropy:

what did not happen

in the past, and

what will not happen

in the future.

the subtext to every

conversation; the words stored

in the front of your mouth

ready to be spoken but

the moment passes

and you swallow.

the emotions which

coat your organs, begging to converse

but you seal them in mason jars,

an afterthought, for next year maybe.

they perish.

why is it that we focus on

negative space:

we see the white vase,

not the darkened faces.

ideas have a peculiar way of

stiching themselves into the pathways of

your mind, so that when they

do not emerge from there

either a thick thread remains

constricting your blood vessels

or you rip it out quick and the pain

comes all at once.

imagination can be a wretched curse.