Once more, with feeling.

Clutter. Even a precious possession can be set aside, misplaced or forgotten. Another less important object carelessly placed upon it, and another, and another, until it is buried. It is easy to become overrun and all that surrounds us consumes our sanity, our energy. Soon, you are unable to find what you had only a few weeks ago considered relevant. What a fucking mess.

It is usually in haste that I will begin to rummage through the piles. The need for immediate clearance prompts the overhaul. But rationale overrides rage and I trade trash bags for storage boxes. All that has been sorted out is neatly preserved. I am certain six months from now I will be digging through the boxes.

But for now, space has been cleared and I found my jacket.





The Burden of Elevation

I can no longer stand in front
and throw my fist at you, intent
on hearing every word, captured
in the moment spinning out of control.
But, I miss this like second nature
and then again, I was always more
comfortable slightly out of focus.




p.s. what the hell another won't hurt.