As my recollection begins to fade; details loosen and facts evade. Self-flattery, a less-sadder-me? Staticy-thoughts coming in on all channels, my tuning seems corrupted and to fix it there's no manual. I indulge in songs played on fragmented frequencies, my mind races and dreams of times and places away from things I know to be true. But in this falsified world I reign over green and blue, my memory serves to pay my ego dues and any contradiction is explained that I am refamiliarizing myself too soon with these remembrances. Verily, these moon-lit dances we envy in my dreams are temptuous curses to distract from actual being, actual seeing, the actual fleeing reality that you hardly lay claim to any longer. Is it really wronger to live as we do, to have chosen how we choose; but not to wish to fly when you've never flew? Stay true to yourself, wishing beyond reason is a recipe for torment and making your own life in to hell, so please pick yourself up if you fell and look forward not backwards. Nostalgia is not a gale that will fill your sail, merely a siren's call; falsified memories.