Life's laid on film.

I feel like I'm always
negotiating the stock
exchange between
sacrifice and regret


Like I'm always
consciously discovering
without remembering
all remote wondering
about the symmetry
of cemeteries
like neglecting the
summary of some
forgotten movie
that involves all
the kids bar one
abandoning
a dog that
got hit by a car
and it's still alive
but dying, so
very very
slowly.

I don't know the difference
between an experience
and what I think
I've experienced,
so I don't know
if I ever
hugged you goodbye
before you left
for the airport

because I was probably thinking
about a short film script I was going to write
that involved this exact scene.

I don't know a sentence
that a fragile word chases
but if I did, I think
it would break
as it hit my lips so
I don't know if this
fight for memory
means anything
or everything
because
in the lack of an end
does it ever really begin?

I sometimes wonder
if losing
all my friends
for my dream
is worth it
without them.

I sometimes wonder
if losing
my dream
would mean
that everything
would be the same.

But I know it wouldn't be.

It's as if I was
watching old movies,
continuously hoping
for a different outcome