As i walked this path home to the once happy place,
Now beaten up and destroyed by the memories that haunt me.
I start to feel the tears run down my cheek.
In an instant I hold my breath and count to thirty.
This is who i have been for many years now,
And i won’t be changing soon.

As i come back into my senses,
I noticed my weary beaten down house,
That once saved me from the monsters that were outside.
I noticed the small things,
The cracked paint,
Broken windows.
Spray paint sprayed all about.  

I grew exhausted from all the memories,
And the agonizing pain it brought me.
I found solitude in my steps away from that putrid house.
I loathed the feeling it brought me.
That vacant memory of that feeling came rushing back.
I began to stumble at the thought of it.
My world came crashing down in that house.
It's starting to be hard to breathe,
As my anxious body aches at the thought of ever being there once more.

From the darkness of a midnight corner
a sudden gleam - light on a shiny surface      
wet where everything is always dry a
lump of something darker than the night
huddles in a heap against the plaster
broken by the jackboot toes  of time
rushing through to other places
There is no definition to the shape
that quivers but does not ever move
or shift the silent air with breathing

From the corner where no light invades
the shadow of a recent battle
hides the echoes of the last defeat
and muffles cries for help to come
and blends itself into the blackness
that’s both transparent and opaque
presenting as a silly fun house mirror
changing all perceptions of reality

In the murky gloom that dominates the corner
keeping time to music no one hears
the marks left by the whip are hard to see and
seeping red drops fake the look of ink
The half closed eye is leaking little rainbows
made from seven shades of ebony
that fall and ****** on the carbon floor
as the clump of misery refolds itself
in ever smaller, tighter packets tied with screams
that ricochet into the vastness of forever.

No White Knight or Unicorn
will ever find the corner
The spotlight of humanity
sports a burned out bulb
The gentle hand of kindness
is rolled into a fist and stuffed
into a pocket of uncaring.
The corner was
The corner is
The corner ever
more will be
             ljm