my ajar door

The door is a jar. Can you imagine something flat containing the volume of a jar of marmelade? You just did. If you can imagine it, it must oh it does exist. And where you expect the happy ending of all of your imaginings you realize. You realize what has not been realized. Or do you?
Everything is fluid. And the abstractness is not something new. When there is distance eyes will be forgotten they say. Ha
Who are they to say?
The word "forget" is tricky like the thing that caused it to exist. You get the "for," the reason for which you wanted to get what cannot get now or you are getting to. And the abstractness continues. I am distracted today. Circles on me need ticking but I cannot do much but look for some other way to live in another country.
Love resides in me and in another country where it drinks late night cups of non-existence. Because if you cannot see it it does not existe. But if you can visualize it maybe it will or it does. Only time for the time being does not agree with it being synchronized according to my desire.
If you got what I mean for... then you cannot be what I should forget.
The door is ajar. The windows open on one side of it and on its other side have caused a draft and the explanation of ajar is as simple as that....