The Memory of Sight

Coffee against sleeplessness, that losing battle ruining my body. Scarring patterns, dental records. A sexual hunger that no woman ever met and no man understood. Early October wrapped in heavy quilts, gazing through the window at a world blurred by melting frost. Whenever you have a law, at the next level of existence, you have a reflection of that law. What is the structure of mind save the structure of the content appearing? A lot of writing is done simply that we won't forget, and yet forgetting is precisely the goal of Love, a difficult balance I am yet to sustain. As in, how I wanted to take the tryst to church and give it my name. Since you didn't really see me, I became blind, and in my blindness died to the memory of sight, in which darkness much is revealed, more or less continuously.