Tuesday, 31 October 2017
I don't know if i'll ever get it out of my mind, whether the world contains enough cheap and nasty cardboard boxed wine. Whether I can turn against the inner workings of my mind, lance away the memories and make my brain become blind. I don't want to resee their little rag-doll bodies unwind, as the disease unfurls and plucks them apart like tattered twine. I saw it once and now every night when I recline, I see it all again, I re-watch their swift decline. I just want to remember when times were kind, before my children left me behind.