Born into it recycled through my innocent actions.
Held over me like an umbrella,
with no rain or sun to provide shelter from.
It weighs me down, like memories from a past life.
The room is dark but for a red light.
The chemical mixture reveals images frozen in time.
More than halfway there, but that says little when I'm 30 years into a 50 year journey.
All these sad songs and fading graphite keep me trapped in a loop.
Trudging through all those drunken memories, I can't help but question how much of it was real.
The images passed over screen and the warmth shared like silverware in a drawer.
My experiences were always playing catch-up to those around me.
I used my skills to construct a makeshift raft, and now spend discarded hours searching for my lost companion.
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