Forgetting is a funeral
inside the brain,
one that’s low attended,
flowers heartlessly arranged.
Creak of hearse-like book cart,
spines swiftly disintegrating.
Seats set in empty rows,
crippled cortical columns,
a great uncle with no name
drops a never-blossomed rose.
The sermon brief and rote,
illegible notes,
a procession of lost memory,
synapsis and stuttering,
whispers of things learned
lowered in the ground.
A funeral in my brain,
but the tombstone can’t be found,
which leads me to worry
how many ideas lie unmarked underground,
damned and doomed
in the cemetery of my creativity.
The itch to dig deeper
till each idea is exhumed.
© 2022 | K.Hartless
Artwork: Brain Funeral Paolo Paptino






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