All My Memories Are Digital

Preoccupied

Haze, it starts in the morning

The day falls through a hollow can

Far into the night, I seek

A lost memory, adrift memory

I stumble, I trip

I climb, I fall

I lay on my back

I talk to the walls

I expect a response from

The pictures I've lost

Myself, the frame

Empty and tossed

I talk to the walls

I search every ledge

I stumble, I trip

I yield, I pledge

Alone, with thoughts that I don't want

Sewn-in much like the days before

No sun, no moon, no stars

No place in the box for an inkless pen