when you remember everything
clearly
in the other world
you visit daily
or nightly
or on long bus rides
the poems,
the colours,
what they said
breaking up
and breaking in
the snow
the music
it ends up all being different
when you look back on it
in the other world
(you also occupy daily
- most of the time)
your memory have been stirred by
the false bugs
you have planted in yourself,
which shakes your worlds up.
maybe nothing is remembered clearly
ever
even if the message is clear.
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