He had stuffed whole

his unwanted past

into the garbage

pit of his soul.

He had forgotten

the odor of the rot,

but the fumes

seeped into his dreams

which he forgot

when morning came.

But others knew

those odors he forgot

and had long

become accustomed to

and now knew not.

As court appointed shrink

it then was my lot

to help him spot

the source of the smell

that gave us all hell,

so I tickled his throat

to help him emote,

but I nearly lost my hand

(a reproach to my aggressive approach)

for I didn't understand

he wasn't ready, you see,

to bring it up to me.