Jargon

Not at all materialistic, but possessive of my possessions. Things that mean a lot to me, not much bit scraps of paper, pages sewn together. I made them to fit perfectly and They are my most precious of things, not money or gold-cut rings. All these glued fragments of memories of bits and pieces of my wonder. Although they fog-- unclear like muddy waters, They make sense to me, roll smoothly over my tongue They soothe me, a map of ink indentations, They derive from me.