Out of the tiny corners of my mind

An idea for a memory sees light.

And I can not forgive much past the time

That fiction fades and fantasy takes flight.

What substance stores our memories?

Have you ever tried to think?

What surface do we write them on

With what ethereal ink?

I’d love to hack into the thing

And remix some around.

I’d be a much more confident man

If some of them could drown.