My memory is a database

there is a place, in that database

a place full of things I cannot face

what remains in my brains is empty space

my stepfather, my sisters, my brothers, my mother.

one of these things is not like the others.

three of these things I'd rather not forget

and the other one stays with me, yet

the bite of a fly, the grit of cement

years of help left but a dent

sometimes I wonder where my mind went

I wonder

and I wonder

it's pulling me under

then I awaken from my childlike slumber

in my mind, there is no time

no season, no reason, no rhyme



only you.



sometimes I ask,...