Who are You?

[Frame]

Who do you think you are
to be inside my head

You think you were born there
I think you burrowed in instead

And set up cocoon
and spun your webs

And invited friends
Such social debs

To keep you company at night
And groan at the dawning light

Smoke your fancy cigars
In my ears park you your cars
shout from my cranium at my feet


make lude suggestions
paint abstractions
Spill your wine inside my eyes

Why won't you tell me who you are?

[4EverMe]

Hey Frame,
This person(s) seem strange. Do they live near you or show up at your work??

[Frame]

No, there just little bits and pieces of me. I'm working on a picture book for my mother. I inherited all the photos that were on the walls of my parents house when they moved into assisted living. I scanned them all and then my sister sent me hundreds of scans of family slides. Most of them are a mess so I'm (once again escaping reality by) restoring them and then printing and binding them.

It's quite over whelming sometimes, looking at all these bits of living we did, remembering things about childhood. But I rationalize, not only is my Mom really looking forward to this, but it might be good for me to regress a bit. Maybe I'll find some options for living now. However, it does tend to fill my head with crazy Frames of old. Nothing that a few beers can't exercise.