Messy

My house, is it messy?

I can’t even see.

The stuff just nestles itself in piles slowly spreading out over time

like trauma

accidentally accumulating in it’s disorder

the owners running out of time each day

to sort through the array of mess

inside

take refuge in the corner

they say less is more

that success if making it look nice

so our eyes adapt quickly to stop scanning the floor

yes, there is a welcome sign on the door

come on in

would you like a tour?

come have a seat, let me make room for you on the couch of my anxiety

knock, knock

this is the kids room

please excuse the unconfined diary of emotions climbing the walls

from going untouched

I misplaced the lock

let’s side step the ugly

hurray, let’s get to the bathroom

sparkling in it’s deception and delusion

this here, is where I groom myself

where I pinch and prod my skin into a respectable shape

dress myself in a cape and put on whatever mask

they

need

the walls shake sometimes as they hold falsehoods

decorated with empty cliches

we point out with pride

is it messy in here?

the ghosts stay near

trailing me like forgotten parts

an invisible companion

refusing to pay attention

so they voices stay to haunt

the unanswered prayers

here is the kitchen

if you look close enough

you will see the hidden crumbs of sorrow left behind

in an attempt to wipe them clean

are you hungry?

I prepared my spleen

the one my mother lost

when she was a teen

why do you look so unsatisfied

I tried my best

you will find no talisman here

no art telling stories from the wall

or artifacts showcasing the hall of my heart

no acts of remembrance on display

I tucked those away, up in the attic

right up there next to my panic

trying to get it right

I thought you wanted a generic house tour

I thought you wanted a put away, tide home

I thought you wanted the good light

I thought you wanted to see nothing at all

Isn’t that what you wanted from me

to be nothing at all?

just nice

did I not get it right?