In my recorded diary,

Duplications react to preserve their integrity –
these tapes won't see me through a whole year.

         After each season there's reason to archive;
         posting each note as individual lives.
         In winter, I archive my diary library.

Files intact will display contents.
Copies react, creating chemical burns.

         If an item merged into a note to tell you
         of something that happened a few months ago,
         That chocolate cake'd prob'ly slide around.

                  Dip this stick in paste post-haste!
                  and smear that stuff on-to that tape.

The paste's my remedy for fame: these tapes can't ever be erased.

In spring, I'll archive that shit away –
sometimes I love & sometimes I hate.

         Reality refuses to be shut at the gate.
         These tapes'll record themselves on the way.
         Take this torch and melt all those tapes.

Pop-in-cassettes make me not have to wait.
But speed's an invoice for letting me rest.

         If an item merged into a note to tell you
         that you've been merging events from your past...
         (It took me some time to see how I'd react.)

                  Spark that torch to touch this whole bunch!
                  and liquify mem'ries of'archiving in love.

The torch is my remedy for fame: these tapes can't ever be replaced.

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