On days like this
I am a museum of things
I want to forget,
and therein I find
portraits of hearts
that once adored me
and since forgotten their vows
compadres that once
milled around me,
have deserted me now.

therein I find
mosaic of the souls
that once touched me
and left
but still, pieces of them remain
for better or for worse
and the memories
are what glues them together;
a reflection of everyone
I’ve ever cared about.
On days like this
I am a museum of things
that I wish to forget
therein I find
an attic with artefacts;
calendar pages and old photobooks
when I was once so excited
to turn a year older.
and now
just making it from dusk to dawn
feels like an immense struggle

when i only used to be afraid
of ghosts in the dark
and under my bed,
the present things that terrify me:
thoughts that turn rogue
like monsters inside my head
is there something that can erase
the days of now,
and take me back to then?

therein i find
different versions of myself
flashing across a projector screen
if i knew who i was then
i know not who i am now
my old self is long gone; I’m marooned.

therein I find
a kinetic rain sculpture.
that then takes me back
to when I lay under the pouring midnight rain.
screaming at the sky and clouds in vain
that maybe, just maybe
I’ll stop feeling blue.
When the rain washes me anew.