dreams call on me rarely now

my visitors are mostly regrets

with gifts of grief and remorse

what conscience never forgets

the love I too often spurned

women I so routinely forsook

bad decisions or no decision

benefit from a backward look

yet the past is a willl o' the wisp

easy to install ideal outcomes

where everything's simpler, a

perfect tune hindsight...

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Nothing is more permanent than memory

Cast-iron files of pain locked in your head

The mind gets drawn back to errors and loss

Magnetised by things you should have said

Torturer is chief is villainous hindsight

Squatting by the guillotine with a smirk

Chewing over all those might-have-beens

In lost chances where grief and loss lurk

Even in dreams we face the angry ...

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