Thursday, June 20, 2013

Where I Lie Again

There is a shameful temptation
At times like this
When I survey the mess
Of my bedroom floor
And try to make some kind of sense
Of all these scattered things,

To justify it all
As the manifestation
Of great internal chaos,
A tangible metaphor
For the torment of my soul,
My haunted psyche,

In my guise of stubborn artist.
But alas! I yield to truth.
It's no interpretation
Of some great creative madness,
Nor any lovesick sadness,
But my disordered life's accumulations.

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