unFocused

by Madeline Laughs
Memory Lane

Memory Lane - Trespassers Shot on Sight

I find myself drifting lately.

Too many walks down memory lane.

Memory Lane. How many times can we visit and still keep our sanity? How much of our lives are we allowed to relive before they expire? How many different ways can I tell a story about my life and still not wake up remembering how much one part hurt?

I will sleep after all of this is over. 

Science tells us that our bodies can only process a certain amount of sugar in our lifetime. Once we reach that limit, parts of our bodies cease to function correctly and we will require pharmaceutical assistance in order to continue leading normal lives.

How much sorrow is one person allowed to process before they need help? When your body stops processing pain, where will you live?

I can’t decide if I want to focus or if I want to drift.

Let’s drift.

I can hold the world in my palm. The entire world fits in there snugly, safely, easily. And yet my palm remains empty. Even when I blow life into this space, the world never appears. It is only my palm, after all.

Science tells us the world rotates on an axis a certain distance from the sun. We are getting warmer everyday. Soon polar ice caps will completely melt and wash away humanity. It has already started.

When your heart is underwater, where will you live?

Let’s drift.

I feed my soul everyday. In some way I give something to my core that sustains it for one more hour, one more decade. It doesn’t have to be a tangible gift. It doesn’t even have to be real. It is only my soul, after all.

Science tells us that the earth was created from some microcosm explosion. A small step for earth. A giant leap to mankind. From primates to playmates. We are all the spawn of spore. Will we end in a microcosm implosion?

When your soul has imploded, where will you live?

Let’s drift.

There are parts of me that are missing parts. I will never find them in a lost and found. I find the holes and I patch them up with laughter, but it fades so quickly and the hole is right back where it started. It is only a few holes, after all.

Science tells us that a heart transplant will extend the life of someone suffering from congestive heart failure. I’ve seen the aides running down the hallways with bags of blood. 1-2-3 breath! Bad heart, no heart, Newhart.

Can a broken heart be fixed with a new heart?

Let’s drift.

Let’s drift.

Let’s drift.

I find myself drifting these days. My sleep patterns are changing. My heart becomes heavy. And I cry. Drifting in a sea of tears with no one to throw the life preserver. No one to pull me ashore.

No one to remember that I am adrift.

It’s only me, after all.

Let’s look at the big picture and let’s drift.

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About Madeline Scribes

A writer with a sense of humor. If anyone can laugh at life, it's me.
This entry was posted in Artsy and Poetic and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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