A Thought of You

OK. This is a different style poem then I usually write. I hate explaining my writing, so i’ll leave it up to you to find what the imagery of the hoarder means.

“A Thought of You”

The cerebral cortex

Is a house with no back door,

No back yard with a dog on a string,

No neighbor kid

playing on a swing,

No morning light

No touch of mythic night.

No weeds growing by the fence,

Or flowers in spring’s suspence.

Just walls,

Corners and corridors,

Walls entending, walls peeling

with a thin layer

of faded compassion.

I keep the front rooms cluttered,

Receipts, a crumpled submission,

And yellow nespapers scatterred,

Among

Broken spine books and dirty dishes,

Magazines stacked crookedly,

The floor creaks

But the past rests silently.

A few pictures

Of you:

With broken

Disjointed frames

Asymmetrical shards of glass

That I cut my fingers on,

_________That is,

_________If I ever clean over there.

—-

Love, spacial distance of where you are

and my front door,

Conmtemplation  of your cold starlight:

But i don’t visit the window anymore.

Time, scar tissue thought,

The electrical burn of

What memory brought,

Into the dim lit prison

Extending endlessly

Into the chasm:

A house decrepid.

Blue walls, you liked blue so much.

*

7/10/2011-11/26/2011

-js

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About Joe Suzz

I probably don't fit into your box. View all posts by Joe Suzz

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