What I remember

There are things that I do not remember.
Being a babe and toddler, of a time so supremely adored.
Because of this they say you cannot help but be their ward.
I do not remember this, but I know.
From door to door I go, not disturbing the space in my mind, the precious flow.
Such things are routine, I do not remember them, but I know.
As a rule I am not like the others, only I know that I know in the way that I know.
I have no brothers, not kin from which I draw remembrance;
no faces of lovers, different instances of me, holding monopoly, on knowledge of me.
No, because even I don't know me.
I remember my cognition of the darkness, an expanse of fanciful things.
Not a chance, but for sure I know, I am that darkness, a dismembered thing.

Notice
this poem is protected by room surveillance.
the exit is the left
ton the Right exit.
not of fun yes monkeys can type
and this means that the donkey inside of you can too.
paper got you downnnnnn
please your writing consultant with successive pen pricks
If its not red dont worry
stab and stab again if at first we dont bleed

What I remember
There are things that I do not remember.
Being a babe and toddler, of a time so supremely adored.
Because of this they say you cannot help but be their ward.
I do not remember this, but I know.
From door to door I go, not disturbing the space in my mind, the precious flow.
Such things are routine, I do not remember them, but I know.
As a rule I am not like the others, only I know that I know in the way that I know.
I have no brothers, not kin from which I draw remembrance;
no faces of lovers, different instances of me, holding monopoly, on knowledge of me.
No, because even I don't know me.
I remember my cognition of the night, an expanse of fanciful things.
Not a chance, but for sure I know, I am that feared night, a dismembered thing.
To remember, and not know: the lethargy of finite existence.
The energy brought down by hallowed rays,to be absorbed by my twilight sky and naked moon.
Each and every one of us; we remember and know, the shared phenomena of decay.
Despite all the knowledge we may gather and remember, there are things to do.
I must remember to remember; there will be no reminder of my bling,
or a film to bring.
Blowing up as smoke,I will not remember, or know.
Breath to breath, this life blows