Not to be reviewed

It's been years since I thought of that

Or did my mind still molding ever truly see what was?

And only a few years since I thought of that which I bury in refuse fragments and turn my back

And it was last year that I forgot again

And now its been months and I close that memory down

And last month also

And weeks can go and I don't think of that

And days when I am not here: I am not being because I am not thinking

And yesterday wasn't

And the morning hasn't happened 

And it's evening

And I see the point of my pen

And I still don't want to be

Here