OLD GUESTS

The lines connecting us

Are jagged and broken

Snagging bits of dark

That cling to us

Along the way

Memories boiling

In a cauldron

Filled to the brim

With dashed hopes

And dying dreams

It’s a rotten stew

To sit down to

So I don’t think I will

This time

They can eat alone

I had a dream filled with people who hurt me in previous lives. It was a long meandering dream. Each segment attached to the next with something like a deformed straw. I’d run from one to the next holding onto this straw looking for a safe place. Each face, voice, or presence popping in to say hello along the way. Either laughing, screaming, or dripping with condescension.

You are alone they all said. The people who love you today won’t love you tomorrow and we are the proof. Proof that life is rigged and like you none of us will know love.

I woke up with the word supercalifragilisticexpealidocious on my brain. I guess that means fuck them. Some memories are demons that cheer against you.

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