My brain is a steel vault.
Storing memory tapes.
For later viewing.
That no one.
Not I or god.
Can destroy.
But I can.
Lock them tightly away.
Yet now and then.
I'll unlock the vault.
To rifle through.
The many many tapes.
In search to find.
One that will.
Match or mismatch my feelings.
Depending on how.
I am feeling.
Some days with.
Brain on autopilot.
I pick tapes.
I'd rather not view.
I fight the urge.
To play them.
But the fragile side.
Of me wins in the end.
As if controlled.
By an unseen force.
I play the tape.
And stand frozen.
As the horror.
Or joyful flick.
Flashes before my eyes.
Perhaps I cried.
Or maybe I laughed.
It doesn't matter.
I discard the tape.
Locking the vault again.
I take my leave.
