The Monstrous Past

The Monstrous Past I try to put the past to bed and tuck it up so it can’t escape I say goodnight and creep away, but it’s always by my side. I try not to look and hope it disappears, but it lingers and loiters. And looks up at me and points accusing fingers The past travels without a ticket or invitation on my back It weighs me down; and in my ear, whispers, nags and torments. I want it to sleep and never wake, snooze while I survive But I can’t prevent its vindictive tongue spewing the past Its targets are various and hit indiscriminately with venom Attacking my nearest and dearest, but no one agrees or consoles The past bubbles to the surface with all my prejudices All the things I hate helps to feed my insatiable paranoia. I’ve been hurt by words and actions in the past - I’ve bled I can’t deny that many times I’ve felt lost and alone But there’s no excuse for digging like a manic archaeologist Unearthing the finished past as if it’s scratching the lid But I do- It boils and burns in my stomach like a sickness Then its poisonous volcanic fire explodes upward I can’t prevent misdemeanours, however slight, being regurgitated, And relived. Until finally they are subdued and controlled. David Cox 28/01/19