Removing Things From My Vision

I scowl at the backyard,

tools cluttering up

my view of nature.

I move them out of the way.

I double-take at the mirror,

showing me this tired reflection.

I turn away.

The scenery on my way to work, on the way to the

grocery store, on the purposeful detours

heading the wrong way,

All look the same.

All around me,

the same, same, same.

I focus on stunting my brain,

attempt to trick my memory,

try not to know

that it's never going to change.

I allow the pictures of you

to seep into my mind,

hear your voice

that gave birth to my name.

Letters forming sounds

that ascertain

I can still feel pain.

The darkness looms

menacingly,

blotting out your image,

So happy and carefree.

I backpedal furiously,

can't close my eyes

to what's inside of me.

I must remove

what I don't want to see.

And when I open my eyes

again,

I am blind to everything

in front of me.