even if memory is more indelible than ink...
as long as it hasn't been tattooed in, everything fades. like a watercolour painting under the rain, the hues smudging and running, crying off the canvas and bleeding into the splattering raindrops. pollution, saturation, invasion.
and in that sense, maybe memories are just like tattoos; easy and sometimes exhilarating to get, even though the pleasure comes mixed with pain. something at the back of your mind tells you that this is not right, you might regret it later, but you go ahead anyway, because it feels so right, it feels so liberating. just for that moment, you're free, you're flying. and just like a tattoo, careless memories borne out of temptation are deceptively simple to forge, but just like a tattoo, they're so difficult to erase. even after repeated attempts, just when you thought everything has been cleansed out of your system, there it is, jeering at you from the deepest, innermost layer. no matter how much you want to scrub it off, get it off get it off getitoff, it stays, a permanent scar.
like how piercings leave a reminder of themselves even after they close, perhaps wounds in the heart hang around for longer than we anticipate, more than we want to acknowledge their presence.
in a perfect world, nobody gets hurt; we'll all be mary-effing-poppins, flying around with an umbrella spreading joy and cheer to the lives of many and beyond. East wind can go shove it where the sun doesn't shine- when the dark clouds come out, all the bunnies hide in their safe little hideouts.
feeling punctured now, but i don't know why. how nice it would be to live with reason.
