my memories are tied
to things, objects
inexorably
intertwined
i cannot hear a song
see a picture
breathe a scent
without invoking
some cruel specter
i wish were exorcised
it's a relief to stumble
onto something
blank-slated, empty
and give my heart a rest
my mind time to gather
itself and reboot
warily waiting the next
onslaught of the past

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