A slight memory,
Riddled in the past–or is it?
I walk the unfamiliar corridors of my subconscious,
Conscious of my unconscious,
Acutely aware of distant memories.
Strange things–Unpleasant things,
Distant but somehow there– just there.
Out of reach –out of touch,
Changes– it changes again,
No more a corridor,
Much more a maze,
A maze of slippery fragmented thoughts.
I’ve been here before–I grasp desperately at the fading images.
They’ve become lost,
Lost within the deep, infinite folds of the subconscious–my subconscious,
Guided by other deeply fragmented thoughts,
A mind riddled with the most complex of thoughts.
Déjà vu? nostalgia?
Light memories steeped in a distant past.