Fav'rite childhood memory #6

There were many men in my head,
wounded, compromised,
propelled by motors and unspeakably dead.

I clipped plans to minds,
guns to hands and set
enemies careening into crimes.

My fav'rite army man leapt
in a single bound
onto a woman as a building wept.

Her father who they had found
dead "for some time" recently
bled into his grave, sniffed out by hounds.

No longer able to lie, he
rose from the dead and into a new place
fled, free from God's, my, decree.

Fav'rite childhood memory #5

Dad's withdrawn in more ways than one,
fallen sun darkened by women.
Tonight, processed meat confuses the tongue.

I climb a tree to hide from the land
because I understand an empty gut. There is no lamb --
I can taste the salt on my awful hand.

At the station Dad will scam
pennies from the tower, and we turn
to what we chew most: bad teeth, spam.

Fav'rite Childhood Memory #4

I burn my bridges like I bury my skin --
halfway to the face. In this world,
sooner or later, breathing is a sin.

I sit on the floor,
young, cold and dripping devils.
When you die, you go to a hell of a war.

I like to count the number of evils
I think and soon will become:
when I was born, it'd been sealed.