Backdrift

I've been forced to trail backwards these last couple of days.
And today I'm having a fever.

I can, if I want to, go back but what is the point? Right? It would lead to a table, on top of a table, on top of a table.. and on the last table there are photos, used tickets and pounding fists.

So I won't.

I have a friend who says I play with every word in my mouth, every thought in my mind. And I do. We both know it. His words are different, pure but dull with a fact backing up every sentence. He says that I'm a bag of salt, explains how water can't get in.

It's still snowing. It snowed yesterday. I hope it won't snow tomorrow.
You can't back up words like "hope".
So he tells me not to use them.

But this isn't about him, it's just that the past has a way of distorting facts.
The way that memory plus memory doesn't make another memory,
he told me that there isn't a thing called a unique thought.

I guess it doesn't matter but this is what I'm carrying around on my sail of canvas I'm dragging behind me.

But for now:

In my room there are two bookshelves, not a single book bought after I was born. And everytime there's a picture I hear how much alike we are. I think it's time to buy my own books. These just wont give me anything.

I did this simile for a friend. Imagine a tunnel that you're digging. Your will to do so is stuck in the past, your goal is burried in the future. Living for "now" is a lie lie lie.

I guess I could go back, but I wont.