I don’t think about 
My past I leave
It alone like the
Sleeping devil it is
At least at rest
It’s no longer conjuring
But during my sleep
Is when my innocence
Is stolen like selfish
Uncles to nephews and
Nieces pawed at undressed
And used for their
Own wicked incestuous pleasure
In sleep is when
My demons dance leaving
Me to wonder if
Because of my own
Behavior here on earth
If eternity like sleep
Will be damned just
Like my nighttime’s are

ThatLittleLump (to Bean)

Sometimes we can’t shake

The shambles that we

Left something in it’s

Impossible to clean house

Completely when you know

That there’s a bin

Filled with painful memories

Tucked in some corner

I have to steely

Myself to even approach

Much less open it

What I want to

Avoid is the tsunami

Of emotion I know

Is coming I want

To flee rather than

Confront I want to

Dismiss to hide things

Under the rug of

My life and pretend

That the little lump

At the far corner

Is not in fact

The beating heart of

Someone that I loved

So many years ago


And now one week

After the shelling stopped

Seven days post Armageddon

Things are coming back

Nature has a way

Of reclaiming what most

Of humanity allegedly conquered

Pounding and pounding and

Pounding its angry fists

But in the silence

In the deep sigh

Life slowly creeps delicately

Cautiously creeps back home

Much like love will

Once they are gone