sunburnt forearms from a week ago i think i can’t remember when, or what your name is
if i look back through some lens of true vision I’m sure I’ll see you whoever you are.
can you not remember me and my name too, nor my face when sitting near me. have you forgotten everything as well outside of the experience of being you at that time.
I’m bad with names. I don’t know how. i eat information and cannot hold a thing like that, weird. in my dreams my mother apologises for calling me the wrong name while we argue, but i say it doesn’t matter because what matters is the argument over something that i did that was wrong. some wrong thing.
the name you call me when you hate me is fiction. when we love each other that’s when they become useful. humanising.
why do i choose to lose the names of people i meet for the prospect of love. for friendship, sex, aspects of affection for the else of someone.
all disparate parts of a universal mind element. dissociated from each other but strongly aligned and evolved into a type of ego war. stroking your back. stranger i am sorry. i have forgotten who i am. and i do not know you either.
may we sit here and talk. tell me. what is your name. i will keep it close to my heart and when you leave i will forget whose heart i am sitting close to. and what the words there mean.
GlitchOut 