I erase myself in pointless endeavors.
Traveling along the print on a page,
my picture, my name,
stain your memory with disdain.
I erase myself from your history-
belonging nowhere in time or space.
Existing to trace a face from a familiar place-
disappearing from hometowns and high schools.
I have no childhood
but a red mask
of rosy reminiscent sin.
Nostalgia paints the way to melancholy,
and the only escape
is to allow yourself to be erased.
