story of an april fool

[smokeyjoe]

caught in a tangle
did I weave this web?
my fingers stick on threads
pulling up memories I thought I'd forgotten
bits and pieces have withered with time
do I rewrite what I can't recall?
the dreams lap against the shore of the waking
what is the wet sand in such a metaphor?
middle ground where memories exist in the present
imaginings walk amongst the living
and the living die and are reborn again

"why did you forget?"
"you forgot, didn't you?"
"why can't you remember?"

remembering is not so simple
to recall we must reach in and grab
pull to present what happened in past
in the act of touching we leave indentations
was that the way it happened?...
you were standing right there...
didn't I say that to you?...
I'm sorry, I don't remember
the dreams are pushing against the surface
of my waking world
while my waking world
descends into dreams
my fingers caught on strands of dense polymer
web of memories
web of moments
if I shift to recall
the tug moves them all
they pitch and roll
my eyes cannot follow as they rearrange
forgive me, I am no hall of records
my memories playfully dance at the edge of my vision
clutching at them, they turn to vapor
I study the pattern they leave in the air upon vanishing
to infer what must have happened
but my abilities at scrying do not apply to such insubstantiality

"Don't forget, that is to say remember, because remembering is so much more of a psychotic activity than forgetting" - Speed Levitch / Waking Life

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it's been said that life is a comedy to those that think and a tragedy to those that feel
I think too much
I feel too much
where does that leave me?
a character in a tragic comedy
the fool