It takes a memory (to be remembered)

there comes a time
when you must face
your lack of importance
the strain, a humility, graced

to most that know,
and once knew, you
by the nature of reality
they have moved on, through

the "so many" or "some"
the "once they truly meant something", strives
as you drown in the drool
paraded, "look, my essentially unimaginative life"

technology betrays
the natural laws of letting go

with the ease of which, we can pretend
"connections, friendships"
never, really, came to an end

we bob and weave
self-deceive
language, an art, reduced
to imbecility, sheathed

sewn and stiched
thread (soul dead)
through each others' lives
making nothing, once something
like swingers bobbing for endless apples,
just rotted cores, seeds,
husbands, wives

without the necessity
of honesty
and just "the drain",
in vain

of energy and focus
best spent, elsewhere
this, now the land,
of everyone's looking
but nobody cares

keep those soulfully, close to you, closer
learn to decipher
when something, someone, is over

know your place
with those in your orbit
and do not forget
don't delude, deny, or ignore it

you are nothing
that special
to most, just a host
to "pleasantries",
all "talk and tease"
this endless sea
of "it's all about me"
as the plague, it reigns
called "A.D.D."

affecting you,
infecting me
as the "we", now pimped
land of little felt and even less, for free

it takes a memory, to be remembered
that's a lot of effort
for most brains, here, dismembered

from swipes and scrolls,
"millisecond likes"
false image projections
and "shit mouth" trolls

for each and every,
this bullshit, levied
will one day, take it's toll
but you have to be bought,
in order to be sold

to the game, to the act
to the endless "love you's",
amongst titles and stats

like a "well cum-ed" mat
that was never really there
just try, "strong and silent"
and never drift, from "aware"

and do not stray
from the very few
who live, with heart
a "put before me", called "you"

as in, "actually care"
and with effort and action
like walking on nails,
shoes, without any traction

to get to you,
if the need is true
this, the definition
of what i mean, "very few"

less "self", more share
amongst the danger
in the "darling" of dare

stripped bare,
savaged,
for the rape, for the ravage

all for the propagate
of "all i want, i take," have it

but hell,
like they say
endlessly, dead-fully
in this place, of covered up, with "cliche"

"life's not fair",
like a tossed of prayer
the question remains,

do you really care?

of course most don't
and that's ok
i own my shit
and hide, inside, my shame

the scars of betrayal
well taught, well trained

to the natural laws,
drought, rain

slain,
by love
and only here, for a few

my heart, it knows
who they are

do you?


bowen-hart roselli
11 january 2020
ringwald love