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My home I’m assembling…

Then I find a photograph,

                   A letter,

                   A card,

                  A memory…triggering my mind…merging…

Into that chaotic schism of division…

                  Of double talk,

                  Of double vision,

                  Of double the dissention…

                  Played from the imagination of your  life…



I’m finding out the “lies were truth” and the “truth was lies”.

And you didn’t care as the egg beaters scrambled my mind.



I pound a nail in a wall,

What I intended to hang there,

I can’t recall…

It just felt good to pound.



Then I steady,

Find my way back on track,

Finding another letter…

                          Card…

                          Photograph…

And all the turmoil comes back.



Purging my home of packed boxes…

The ones you forgot to go through before you left…

And all I want to do is get rid of all the “Tardy 2168’s”…

Written on everything from ink pens to towels to your damned old underwear.

You’ve been out of the military since ‘96—

Is this still your identity crisis?



However,  box after box,

I’m bashed with memory after memory,

Of the good and the bad—of my reflections, on what I thought was real.

But now you’ve said my perceptions are all messed up…

That what was good was bad, and what was bad was good…

Or that in the midst of your confusion, you said it was just a “mood”.



I look over my shoulder now,

For a blue truck,

       A green car,

       A silver/white one,

       And now, a new red model.

No matter what you drive, you’ll always be identified with a vet tag.

Maybe it’s a good thing…for you to have a new number…

“Tardy  2168” is getting really old.





If singer Eminem is your hero,

What kind of class does he have when he flipped off the world?



Is there any wonder that you left me, something good,

For some indistinct life…just another number that says you “belong”.

Another self-made identity,

    As another target and victim.

Another self made life history,

    That you’ll tell your next friend,

            Your next lover…

And even in all my anger,

I have to remind myself you’ll never recover…



WHEN EVENTUALLY YOU’LL PLAY GAMES

TRYING TO CON THE WRONG PERSON,

WITH ALL THIS BULLSHIT,

A BULLET WILL GO THROUGH YOUR HEAD,

YOU’LL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!

BECAUSE THE NEXT PERSON WON’T BE ME,

AND TAKE YOUR CRAP…



And in this moment,

It brings me peace…and sorrow…

Even now,

I know you could say all the right words at all the right times…

You’d put your hands just so, and your leg around mine…

In a kiss, like the first, I simply could not resist…

And I’d loose my heart, and loose my mind a second time.



I get all these thoughts, box after box…

The pain and pleasure racing…

When will it stop…



BRAINWASHING ME?