Fever dreams remind me that I’m a child,
That behind layers of memories,
Worn to conceal futures defiled,
You remain a part of me,
My muse, my lover, my hateful self.
Why do you still smile in my nightmares,
With lips wet with blood and tears,
While I wither beneath your stares,
Do you hate me so much,
That being carried in my heart is a curse?
I killed myself, over and over, to forget you,
But your singing haunts me,
Brings me back to life, to the past,
Only to face you again:
Our lovely double suicide.
Discarded Recollections 
Wow! amazing piece, Masa. Beautifully creative. Love it!❤️
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Why, thank you as always. I had such terrible dreams this past week, lying in bed with my usual summer fever, I could not help but dream of loves lost and ever-refusing to stay dead. Perhaps that’s my inspiration for the day.
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Dreams can often become the best subjects for writing, as shown by this piece right here. Reading your work is always a pleasure for me, you are very welcome.💕
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