thud, thud. stomp away

and break your own bank. nothing registers

but a glassy eyed look

of bliss where the mind is snatched,

the heart buried in some memory locked

away from eager kids wanting

to spill the bean.

bruises, redness, soreness, a lethargy

infiltrates into flesh still pumping

endorphins unreal. muscle spasm. twitch,

the eye twitches again, a flick, a ponder,

then the next leap came about

where a burnt out chest sits quietly.

broken dreams, broken dolls and sunken

ships resting one’s grasp. too chill to notice.

a glassy eye shifts, awareness lights up when

chains begin to tug, pull, drag the heart

out of forsaken alleys no longer hidden

and the kids they chant, they are amused

when a cat leaps out of a bag.

like a magician pulling a splendid trick

out of empty eyes, with lightning flicking

inside frayed brain addled. what? how? the bank

is closed, the identity switched with a questioning

investigator asking the wrong questions

when a kindly nurse struts out to hold

one cold body tight. hold him down, she

rasped. a straightjacket, how fitting

for absent memories no longer drifting.

and awareness, thunder is like remorse

engulfing flames –

watch the treasure chest go up in smoke!

and still more wood, more flammable fluid

gets tossed. it’s the light of the day,

that memory gone dark, reignited,

but an imp held the match stick. mine, mine.

then became the owner of a bank, owner

of fond memories no longer. theft, theft

the mute man tried to say something.

but even the lips were sewn away, like the

hands that keep clawing

while a wide eyed investigator told the

meddlesome kids to

go home. it’s where the burnt out chest

laid resting, cool to the touch, no longer alive.