Engulf a system.

Engulf a system.  Remember it so you can adhere to it.  Adhere to it, and engulf it.  With time, everything that comes in will go out, and that system has to save everything.  There need to be tape recorders and file cabinets.  A keyboard's keys should be worn, and muscle memory will be the only thing that lets you know which stroke is which.  There need to be file cabinets, dated and alphabetized.  Never trust a man with a clean desk.  There is too much going on.  Too much in my head these days.  I've saved it up and let it fester and age.  Don't grow old.  I hear all their voices: the curse of listening.  There's nothing original because you all came up with it.  You sat in your cafes with your cigarettes and coffee and your typewriters lubricating everything until it spilled out in shapes and colors no one would appreciate as stern years later.  But you had fun.  You taught and you watched.  You watched the world get sick and old.  "America is old."  It's stories and history are lost to loneliness.  A lonely continent existing before oral tradition and long before anal tradition, shitting America falling off the wagon again.  This is what happens when you hold it in.  This constipation of thought and energy until you want to scream.  You want to fight.  Fight me.  Take me on.  Drop me.  Challenge me.  Rub me to raw and tearing.  I'll fight you because I'd miss you if you were gone.  I've got ideas written on pages of journals and word documents lost in the ether of terabytes.  I've been writing to miss you.  Writing to get over you.  Old loves.  New loves.  Loves that should have been, but got complicated.  Writing to apologize.  Writing to prove myself.  That's what it all is.  Proving myself.  When will it stop?  When will you know me to be just like you, full of passion and power?  I think of you with him now.  Do you still wear that little silk robe?  Do you make him sit in the cold morning air?  When will he be leaving?  When will the next one move in?  I know he's there. And you.  We parted with such harsh emotions and fresh scars.  That emergency room still holds dark words and cold. Believe me.  How can I say I'm sorry?  Just keep trying.  Just keep trying.  There is so much good now I know I can spare some for all.  It just needs to be written down.  Engulf a system.  Remember it so you can adhere to it.