Last thursday night I found the black in my eyes in the portions of the time I tell myself earnest lies. I am finding myself looking at the same dark skies. I’ve found nothing of note just more extension and time. The matter is displaced in my memory of case, recalled a door was ajar when it was really misplaced, that our bedrooms were far but slept in the same place, when you were really in Spain and I was really in space. All I crave is to grasp the rock in left hand and hold out the other to receive the blow the lash the whip the godsend shocking me back to self. Whatever place that is i just pray some day it happens, that the dark inside the pupil rots to white of a spotless mind. In someplace that escapes me in the Alzheimers onset i kept recording new songs to ensure I’d not forget but features of face now lay on cutting room floor. All my friends are just feelings I’ve lost the sensation for. The tape has run out all life recorded off record. I just sit in my house while I try to remember. The ones that always come back center around the way that your neck curves, every image I have is drowned out in the reverb. All i crave is to smooth some hurt with just hands and sharpen the other, to receive the knife the cut the pain the godsend shocking me back to self. Whatever place that is i just pray some day it happens, that the dark inside the pupil rots to white of the spotless mind.