Delicate Ink-stained Hands

My world is filled

with lined notebook paper.

My looping cursive in black ink

exorcising my thoughts and ideas.

A ritual,
an offering.

This the only way I know how.

I have always been ruled

by this compulsion,

this obsession,

with the written word.

Don't Try To Go Back

It won't be as you remembered.

Thinking about memories.

Attempting to relive
moments.

Try too many times
and they become tainted,
warped by your own mind.

Dosed and disintegrated
in nostalgia.