I remember this dream I don't think I've ever really dreamt…

It was complete, fulfilled and honest in it's gentle lies.

As it was dark, pitch black and ernest, it wasn't more than itself.

I've become jealous of this one notion, to remember…
… to experience and remember the event in question.

No big thing, right?

No big thing…

I remember the before and what came after, the moments of little importance...
… and those with none at all.

I cherish my memories, those fragments that stick…
mere eyeglances in the ocean of full on gawking…

I wonder if that is why I actually do write… to create something to remember?

To fabricate a memory from nothing at all… sometimes that actually works.

I have memories as clear as day of love I know full well I've never felt.

The mind spell such wonderful lies…

Dreaming or not… I can feel so little… or so much...

I can only thank my innate gullibility and it's obvious prowess to be fooled.

waltzing in and out of a care free delusion

I fear no future

fear require thought

my mind is a beautifully complete blank

/