What do I remember

poem? , October 17 , 2025

By Jace Marron

What do I remember.

I’ve been having spiritual experiences lately. Hunched over the toilet bowl, mind blank, nothing coming up. Sitting in my backyard and digging a hole. Listening to the crickets. Maybe If I shrunk down real small I could lay my me in the indentation and stare up at the stars a bit. I don’t drink. In a past life my father shot himself and I had to sell my house. In a past life all I did was twist others around. My father is just a racist now, in this life. I say past life but it’s all just me. God, I’m filled with nonsense. 

Let me try that again.

Sorry. I’m not a writer. I’m just rambling. Ghosts and white horses and cowboys and shit.

Let me start again.

I’m not a writer. Not the writer part of me. Or an artist. Or a poet. Not even sure why I’m here right now. There’s no meaning to what I’m saying. Talked to my me’s friend about what spirituality even is. Said it was anything non-physical. Thoughts, ideas. I don’t know. He picked at me. I eventually laughed and told him, “Man, I’m just saying shit.”