Memory Lane

I've been tryna think to when I was a boy.

Ran fast. Told lies. Made my big sister cry.

First it's all crystal clear. I can still see the sky --

But then darkness rolls in, and the memory dries.

What's going on? Why's the image grow pallid?

Is there not enough space? Is the coding invalid?

What you're talking 'bout, son.... We called it nostalgia.

Is that an app? Is it free? 'Cause I just got Neuralgia.

Neuralgia, you said? So what's this one about?

It's a game that sends currents from lumbar to scalp.

Just every few minutes, outside your control.

And the pain's even worse 'cause you can't know the source.

As fun as that seems, nostalgia is better.

It's a slow-dance with time. Think a temporal gala.

With your hand in your mind, move along to the ballad --

I don't own any ties, and I never had balance.

Then not a dance, but a walk, at a heavenly pace.

A light stroll in the past that takes place in your brain.

Walk? There's no time! Surely not in this rain.

I'll call an Uber to take us down memory lane.

He'll be here in 5. Oswaldo's his --

Be present, my son! Or the past stays the same.

It stays black as you grasp at the ghosts of its shame.

You hear me? My aim is to make you afraid.

Sink in the fear, and close up the drain.

So let's try it, right now, we'll take a walk through those days.

When rain took its time -- wistfully fell through the haze...

You remember we used to cast out in the bay?

And at the very first tug you would reel straight away?

But I'd say to hook what's worth your weight,

Gotta hold the resistance, lest the prize does escape.

Still you've to learn any goodness must wait.

So let the herring of death bite down on the bait.

Endure the unease of a line that could break

To secure the pleasures of catching your fate.

I'm tryna recall, but it's just streaks of color.

You know when you push on your eyes and blackness is blurry?

So are you done with this, Pop? I'm in a bit of a hurry.

And I got this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

That's promising, son. An awakening's coming.

Remember when I walked to work every day?

Not a thing between me and the falling of rain.

Puddles of water my mirror of pain.

The splashing of sadness, my only refrain.

You'd be home with ma -- singing, playing your games.

And when she would cry, it was me she would blame.

But I'd open the door and you'd hug me the same.

And the tears would flow through like the blood in your veins.

The tears I remember, but never the reason.

I've a pain in my chest. Is it internal bleeding?

I hope so, my son, for that would mean I'm succeeding,

To make you reclaim the great wonder of breathing.

Now it scares me to see the way loneliness changed.

Unnoticed until you're alone in the grave.

Vacant bodies fill populous trains.

Lending their sweat but withholding their names.

Vacuous eyes of all colors and shapes.

Hunched over new-age reflectors of pain.

Enough with these words. The room's starting to spin.

If I keep tryna listen it all might cave in.

Animatronics with square, glowing hands,

They got you confused 'bout becoming a man.

A remote, calculated prevarication.

Their intimate way of human relation.

Help me, Pop. I can't stay standing.

The agony's dense and the fear is expanding.

If you're living with ghosts, are you dead or alive?

And if you're already gone, why try to survive?

It's black again, Pop. There's a chill in my spine.

Remember you used to get ill on long drives?

We'd ride to the mountains and before we'd arrive,

Your insides revolted with senses deprived.

No detection of motion; no truth was derived.

Locomotion surpassed our god-given limits.

And the body responded with violent sickness.

Now it's more of the same -- drive opposable thumbs.

Point, click, create, but diminish our sum.

Plug-in, unplug from the life all around us.

Disconnect from the world so a numbness surmounts us.

You're hurting me, Pop. I don't like this feeling.

Look at these souls -- told love is a number.

They collect it like debt, but it can't end the hunger.

The rain's coming down. Get me out of this place.

Can't find higher ground; I'll dig in to escape.

---

Pouring on the surface. Subterranean flooding.

Thundering the airwaves, bolts of wi-fi lightning.

Struck blind, I'm a moth to the white light's biting.

Zap! Another neuron. It's a young mind's blighting.

The needle's in a frenzy when the pressure is an icon.

Shooting up a screen to try to get my high on.

Balanced on the platforms; they're swaying like a pylon.

Can't breathe underneath the masks I wanna try on.

I'm exceeding the time that the world is taking.

Two steps ahead has my body breaking.

Go fast to slow the infant fear that's waking.

Never learn to walk with the whole world shaking.