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Nostalgic preserve
You could be dead,
It really never made much difference.
All that remains now,
are tiny little memories of you; how you were then, and how you'd be now, if it were up to me.
From inside a dark room, surrounded by forgiving light,
you could throw your life away: I would not care.
Just please please, don't let me in.
Close the door if you still remember all the doors I never shut on you.
I've already locked away a part of you inside of my head.
It is my vicarious memory,
my formless entity,
and it will never be shown the darkness.
Freeze this frame,
but remember it is not real.
Close the door,
and let nothing escape.
If chance comes knocking,
check the peep hole.
You might not want this familiar stranger to enter.
Happy with a memory,
kept frozen in motionless time.
I will not bleed one more drop,
waiting on pins and needles.
I've had you all along,
I guess I just wanted to remember your touch.
PERFECT, I JUST MANAGE TO
PERFECT , I JUST MANAGE TO CLOSE THE DOORS,, DELETE MAN, SIMPLE, IT WAS FOR ME.
Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.