never to be seen

i am writing.

more and more.

the parts of me 

i put to sleep years ago

for survival 

are slowly waiting up.

they are aching 

and angry

and bitter 

and so happy. 

so they poke me me

pen-swords at the ready

dare me to turn their rantings-

wordless, musical,

primal scream-dances

into a poem.

so i write. 

and i publish.

but some, i keep hidden away

for fear they will further separate me

from that which i desire 

and deserve.

and they stay there ...