Christopher

Blessed are the forgetful

Or so Nietzsche tells me

But when have transitory monsters lost a childhood

Or a father who stayed only in their mind’s eye

Now faded away like the shore ravenously

Consuming names you scrawl in the sand

So you wouldn’t forget them

So I try everyday to outrun the ocean

To check sand for grooves dug in with shells and

Old driftwood I found on the shoreline

Ghostly impressions of faces and places

Haunt my brain when I have time alone

And I dig underneath the dry crystal sand

To find little bugs and worms in water pockets

And they tell me all they know

Give me tidbits and baubles of information

Memories that fell through the grainy surface

And sit in my psyche comfortably

Sleeping in while a dig in

They just outrun my fingertips grasping for them

It’s a game of cat and mouse

Pumped up on crack cocaine

Drugged out and running away

Not running free

Just running away

So Nietzsche was close to the point

Blessed are the forgetful

But not those who have forgot