everyone once in a while, no matter how hard i try to avoid -
i see an old clip, an old picture, or your handwriting -
and i can't breathe.

or her, the people smell of vanilla on their skin.

but mostly you,
and weed with morning tea.

one day i'll be brainwashed,
with vanilla still lingering under my skin,
with tea drowning my brain.

with floating fragments of almost-humans that i tried to forget.
time is never ticking when it comes to times like this.

old things in the past are hard, present things are equally hard.
i had an odd but not so odd dream last night. not so odd as true it is one thing i recently long for. odd as i've been telling myself more than enough about the impossibility of such events.

people like messing with my brain.
memories like messing with my brain.
i don't like to, but i also mess with my brain.