ncarey007
Lost, losing, lose, the detritus of life floats away on a stream of time.
Can we survive all these losses and stay intact, noble, human?
What about when we lose our memories?
oh my the rear end of existence, my life as an afterthought--what do I do with this useless stack of nothing words spoken in nothing breath?
The trunk of my desires stands useless, waiting, a repository for dreams that never become real, for a life that never coalesced into meaning. The trunk of youth, the trunk of desire, the trunk of broken dreams. What remains is too old to be of use.