Remember How You Used To

As I Enter The Small Intestine I Get Squeezed By Muscles. Its Dark And The Walls Look Like Slimey Crushed Velvet Theres Pancreas Juice On Me Help Me I Am Disintigrating.

I Remember My Comic Strips Being Called "new Wave." It Bugged Me.

I Used To Live A Very Social Life And Never Spend Much Solitary Time Looking At Birds Or Reading.

The Thing I Call ‘my Mind’ Seems To Be Kind Of Like A Landlord That Doesn’t Really Know Its Tenants.

Are Memories Pictures Or The Secret Doorway?