House Of Horrors

What if they won’t believe me,
Now that things happen to be cleaner?

The new Salvation Army helper,
Knows only of the current state of things;

Oh, two years of horrendous experiences,
Indescribable imagery flashing before my mind’s eye,
All I can offer is examples,
Struggling to form the sentences…
How can you describe that?

What if they won’t believe me,
Now that things happen to be quieter?

Oh, I am stymied once more,
How to say anything worthwhile in the time available?
Phantom sounds of warlike flashbacks,
Sending waves of tension throughout my body;

I feel the urge to send images of warcrimes,
Just to satisfy the paranoid part of me,
But alas, I deleted them all,
Out of sheer fucking digital disgust;

It’s just another compulsory urge,
They in fact understood me well,
Understood the irony of it all,
That now of all times, when there is hope afoot,
This house of horrors
Should seem, at face value, to be once more bearable.

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But I see ghosts of housemates past,
The drunken, stumbling zombie,
The stench of death and rotting waste,
Spilt alcohol and stale cigarettes…

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