I have some recurring themes going on in my head these days. Either mom, or kid from childhood, or the house I lived in. They all start to run together after a while. I guess this one is just another facet of what I recall from childhood.


It’s just a house, I won’t get hurt
A nice stack of brick, surrounded by dirt
Seems tame enough, and yet within
Are memories of anger, corruption and sin

Behind the front door, insanity waits
Visions of pain as my hope deflates
Inside I head to my world of the norm
Wishing to hide, escape or transform

There’s mom standing next to the sink
Doing her business without e’en a wink
My friends moms are not the same
As she who bore me, with my last name

Advice came from her with reasons unclear
Lying and sneering were all I could hear
“Avoid that boy. He’s bad for you!”
But so are you mom, so guess what I’ll do.

I went with my friend where we reigned supreme
I was his sidekick, e’en when he was mean
Get out of this house, get far away
To stay with that “friend” another day



Money talks, but all it tells me is goodbye.

If I could meet myself as a boy...