The Cold Floor of our minds

When you tear off your sheets each morning and stare into their distance. The infatuation was like running down a hill backwards. Reckless pyramid schemes your whole life. Taking advantage of and then taken. You changed your name to Tecmo Freelander and vowed to forget everything that happened. But then you realized you needed to remember what to forget. The contraption never worked well. All it ever produced were the bass lines. Two sided tape and arguments. "I can't help you," I said to myself. Just wind the music box back to the beginning.