cense

tempus edax rerum the art of being haunted beautifully

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colors

reds that burn blues that heal yellows that glow in ways you can feel

but i look at myself and nothing stays every shade fades every hue strays

i try them on like borrowed skin but they don't settle they don't sink in

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i forget it.

i forget what follows forgetting. the moment after the blank doesn't announce itself; it just arrives already present, like a stranger who claims to have always lived in my house.

when i forget, i do not lose. i become rearranged. the absence finds a shape inside me, and i walk around carrying it, heavy as silence, soft as moss.

i forget what follows forgetting. maybe its remembering, but bent, distorted, growing sideways like a plant in a dark room. maybe its another forgetting, a chain of vanishings that pulls me further inward, until even the idea of “i” is another misplaced thing.

forgetting is a doorway that pretends to be a wall. and each time i cross it, i forget that i have crossed it before.

i forget what follows forgetting.

the air tilts, time stutters, and i lean into a gap that should not be there.

i forget what follows forgetting.

language loosens, vowels spill, consonants turn brittle. meaning falls apart like a persimmon dropped too many times.

i forget what follows forgetting.

a spiral opens — not forward, not backward, but inward, and the inward has no floor.

i forget what follows forgetting.

it is not loss, not quite. it is folding, a soft distortion, a place where thought curls into itself like smoke.

and i do forget, what follows forgetting.

and in that forgetting, i remember i have always been there.

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hello! ✦

i'm the one behind these fragments. i like throwing bundles of sentences pretending to stand upright!

think of this blog as a room where i leave the windows open and let the storm scrawl whatever it wants across the walls.

i'm not here to make sense. i'm here to SPILL, to echo and let questions crawl out of me and cling to whoever passes by. to build a little archive of delirium, poetic or pathetic depending on the hour...

you're welcome to read, to linger, to collect the loose pieces. just don't expect much conclusions.

this wall is my temporary permanence. my proof i was here, at least for a moment.

and yes ive posted here before!