deepundergroundpoetry.com
Clutter
I unpacked various belongings
Dusty packages and rotting cardboard
In the cobwebbed clutter of my mind
How it asks to be opened
How it begs to be discovered
With a rusted boxcutter
I sliced them apart, a bloody mess of my heart
Scattered on the ground
Untidy attic..
Traversing a journal jungle
Splattered ink and torn documents
Postcards and albums
Intrude my memory
I fucking hate unboxing..
“Rip us up!” They cry
“Might as well..” I sigh
These historic items of mine
Have become a junkyard overtime
Seems the others can’t read or write
Time to move out, I say
Dumping gasoline, to secure my getaway
Dusty packages and rotting cardboard
In the cobwebbed clutter of my mind
How it asks to be opened
How it begs to be discovered
With a rusted boxcutter
I sliced them apart, a bloody mess of my heart
Scattered on the ground
Untidy attic..
Traversing a journal jungle
Splattered ink and torn documents
Postcards and albums
Intrude my memory
I fucking hate unboxing..
“Rip us up!” They cry
“Might as well..” I sigh
These historic items of mine
Have become a junkyard overtime
Seems the others can’t read or write
Time to move out, I say
Dumping gasoline, to secure my getaway
Published 12th Sep 2020
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likes 4
reading list entries 2
comments 2
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The author encourages honest critique.
13th Sep 2020 9:44am
Dear T,
Fantastic write. I like the literal and metaphoric use of the stored attic items not only as physical reminders of love and loss but the idea that they’re stored and make clutter and won’t let us go. They hook their talons in the soul and it takes a gasoline can to get rid of them. Truly insightful and thoughtful piece. H🌷
Fantastic write. I like the literal and metaphoric use of the stored attic items not only as physical reminders of love and loss but the idea that they’re stored and make clutter and won’t let us go. They hook their talons in the soul and it takes a gasoline can to get rid of them. Truly insightful and thoughtful piece. H🌷
18th Sep 2020 5:43pm
