Psychic

Loosing life to the beast of Forget.

Long had I wondered if I, this mind of careful dictation and artful expression can ever be lost to Forget. Never could I imagine such circumstances that could bring about my demise, till one day, I was found displaced and quiet.

“Oh thou and thy breast oft pouting much expense. I delight, thy feed by such malice art truly of apathy.”.

Forget consumes without remorse, without mercy or even thought.

For each second in time, a due portion of mind it consumes. For each new colour, new sound, new experience, another is be lost to the art of Forget.

As these travesties of mind progress, no alarm is raised. For no presence it presents.

All its malice and destruction in the scenes of mind proceed in covertness so silent. So silent!

For such silence  is its being. Forget-ness is silence, is empty. Its absence is its presence, its being.

As it consumes, the loss it exudes is so vast. The void if let untended gain permanence with time. The emptiness would stretches deeper and further into mind till the only vestige of what once was is only its absence. A bold presence of loss in one’s recollection.

Forget consumes without bound for its appetite  is expansive. It consumes and it will hunger, it will dig deeper and spread further. An entire psyche could be lost if it fancied, an entire perspective of self as it did mine.

As I inflate this self once more, my mind finds itself punctuated by nodes of lost and void. Like a tattered flag swimming in the salty breeze.

For each silent hole, for each for void, for each lost moment, that has been forgotten, I will fill anew.

For this is my psychic revival. I am Al Nietzsche and I must never be forgotten!