Breakfast v. Nightmares

I can't remember shit.

I am the person who jokes:

You think I

remember that?

I can't even remember

what I ate for breakfast.

Typically,

that statement is true.

However,

there are things that my memory

refuses to forget.

My memory knows

that memories can be

the worst form of torture.

I have woken up

praying for amnesia

because my memory

likes to cause pain

when I cannot fight.

My nightmares

could put Stephan King

to shame

because my memory knows exactly

what will deepen my self-dug pit

what will heighten my self-doubt

what will strengthen my fear

of being a disappointment

what will make me crack

I wish I knew

what the hell I ate

for breakfast

and could forget

how broken

life has made me feel.

Tomorrow,

I am having

cereal for breakfast.

I am praying I remember.