mocked by misremembered memories

i drifted aimlessly
all morning
walking streets
i havent seen
in so long that
i have lost track
if they ever really
existed at all
maybe it is a case of
having forgotten what
the back of my hand
looks like but
i could swear
somewhere underneath
a life of accumulated
scarring there was
once a map of
a hometown that has
become a lost island
sunk to the bottom of
the angry ocean
atlantean daydreams
in sepia haze
longing for a place
that only exists
in the dusty corners
hidden away with
red fire trucks and
the hope that anything
will ever get better

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