I Wish I Could Go Back... Well Not Really... Poem by Christopher Soto

I Wish I Could Go Back... Well Not Really...



Sometimes I wish I could retreat into the dark corners of my mind
Where distant memories seem to live on forever.
There I could interact with the past as if it were now,
the the now as if it were the future and the future as if it were never.

A desire to go back to a time were I was fine, well not really,
but the illusion is all that remains in hindsight of those experiences;
And they present to me in an appetising manner
making me wish that I was there again.

Do I regret? No I do not. For if it were not for supposed mistakes,
my current reasonable state of tranquility and a rather pleasant intimacy
that I get from the activities that I partake in today, would be non-existent
and even more so distant, than the memories I wish I could re-create in this current state.

Emotionally unstable? Probably not. I feel and react to certain stimuli that attack
my central system of emotional functionality, and attempt to alter reality,
positively failing and falling too short of their goal to even try to mention in such
a short run of a sentence embedded in the depth of my apparent poetry.

Do you realise that without a full stop it seems like I’m rambling on forever
not taking a breath because I’m also omitting the comma that in common circumstances
tends to signify a pause in which the reader could choose to take a breath if that were his desire
all depending on the feedback that he would acquire from the organ labelled the lung.

No where were we? … Oh right, a desire to backtrack through the that which has led to the now.
If it were possible, I would go back and watch the great movie which prequels the now.
It has been an interesting journey, with interesting adventures, and also many boring times.
I would be so very keen to observe what made my complexes what they are today,
my cynicism for certain types of themes, and my ever changing perception of life.

It’s only a desire which I hold every now and again when I find myself thinking about what I should have changed.
But all in all, here I am… At the edge of reality representing the now, at the edge of the next decision I will most probably take, and at the edge of the thought which will lead into the next.

Here I am, there’s nothing more.


~~03/04/2015~~

Friday, April 3, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: past,thoughts
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Kurt 03 April 2015

A haunting and well written poem, Christopher. Thanks for sharing.

0 0 Reply
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