subject: take a photograph.
time: 12:42am
music: 100 years - five for fighting
mood: hyperchick.

what captures a memory like it happened when we lived it? what happened to simple and uncomplex and me with my ear half-deaf from listening to music too loud? so cognitions do fade and these colours we want to share over and over, to feel for that moment the heart skips a beat while smiling and grinning ridiculously, because we were pretty people in black and white memories with no room for display. these are discrepancies we'd rather hide in the midnight skies, selling lies unto the night. these are the trails that we have left behind, the scars in streaks lay still in sight. these are the seperations manifold, the childlessness of growing old. these are the bursts of life remain controlled, the stories that cannot be told. yet time drags a knife down my spine and i am paralysed.

where is that promised ease? the big explosion that was supposed to radically alter my life? the love that was supposed to take my breathe away? he to sweep me off my feet with gestures oh-so-sweet? where is that comfort in equilibrium t'was meant to sell assurance ? yet the questions, the disappointments, and everything we celebrated for are but mere walls that are ugly with peeling paint but with no room for new frames. only teenage memories, like landmarks meant for someone else to trace back to where they came from.

so these days, i am as ardent as i am dormant. i have been awake in the solitude of my cognitions and i cannot remember the last time there was contentment in just being here. yet, how is it that the year has gone by now? how is it already december? and i cannot remember april going on september; and june through november. yet, maybe, in retrospect, any moment in our lives is a moment we have just awakened to because it is the only moment we remember most clearly. a lifetime in a second, the world in a grain of a sand. there isn't a present because every second is a second too late. perhaps that is how it is already amidst december? what captures a memory like it happened when we lived it?

and now a brand new january is taking form in our eyes; hopeful halcyon days born from perfect nights. a specialty in making the stars weep, unfolding all tomorrows, wipe the memory slate clean, buy a fresh white canvas unlittered with a past without this apathy that pollutes me, morphing in my loyalty. so soar. so spread this vacuous heart like stars. and i shall see tomorrow in grains of sand.