They have been mine for so long.
The human life furniture.
Father and mother sparked
off into extrapolate variants
each less familiar yet more
vicious .
Relatives.
Poisonous unknowns writhing
in familiar basins of obligation at
once devilish and angelic as the mood
descends upon them.
Neither cloud nor sun.
Coming and going more like weather
than friends obliging ceaseless care.
Feeding in rotation on what ought to be 
As denizens of a settled land and house.
Now war and the human shrapnel
Concussed and dizzy are so close
that breath has stifled into gasp and snort
loving into fatigue.
I have had my fill of memories and old laughter
bright white visions and barbecue wine .
I cannot wait here any more.
I want my bed , I need my home.
I wish finally to eat alone .
Caring uncle, heart stroke aunt,
Bullet ridden saviour and ten girls
take your cheap Mediterranean crap
 Go.
Go back to blood sodden fields
Go back to execution stands -
Turn around.
And disappear with the others.
The variants no more.