耽溺

跌進紙片記憶裡，便陷入時空黑洞。驚異於數量繁多的刀口，一頁一字一句，載著每一回愛恨加乘的聲嘶力竭。偶然出現溫暖的曙光，天真以為回憶可以帶來一點甜蜜，卻招引來更龐大的空虛。流下的淚水積成一澤乾涸的岩漠，曾經那麼求死。念舊，所以燒不掉存在的意義。純潔的、骯髒的，都是認真的證據。還有那些賣弄來的業餘詩篇，給自己的評語是已經沒有靈魂、完蛋了、死定了！

千里之外送了又送，一併送走了年少的勇氣。回首都是真摯的情意，前瞻都是虛應的故事。有過用邏輯去解套，在患病時記載著：

Little is not small, baby is not baby anymore.

Love is not love, love is hate. Love is not to forgive, love is to forget.

Forget is not easy, love is not easy.

Remember is easy, remember hate is more easy.

May i curse? Though curse is not gentle.

But my heart is gentle, so easy to get hurt.

Maybe hurt needs curse to ease. Can i curse?

Can i curse the unfaithful? Before i start to be unfaithful.

這一星期以來出現種種似曾相似的徵兆，甚至在與友人晚餐顯示。拿起水杯來無制顫抖著；點起菸來火影搖晃；正對著聆聽頭頸無法控制地抽搐。可是找不到引子，真的拆解不出來哪裡失了焦。容器又滿了嗎？怎麼堆來的？假如，我只是假如，剪斷了所有寫脈，會不會真正地歸零？

徵召一帖安睡處方，勝者可以取走我靈魂碎片一枚。