Ode to my messy room
I sit in this pale perfect chair
warmed with the touch of the back of my skirt
surrounded by piles
yet not feeling claustrophobic
for my surroundings have filled
with the contents of my mind
a suitcase whose clasps can't hold it together anymore
and it is such a relief
to see the bits of my self
scattered about
joyous like brie
and silver wrapping paper
and bizarre combinations of V8 Splash in a baby Nalgene
painful like notebooks and coursepacks
and the headphone wire that I keep treading on
and two pairs of scissors, lying, blades spread viciously, on the gray floor
comforting like my New Jerusalem Bible
and fourteen plants strewn precisely about the space
and Shaw's children's chewable vitamins (I eat the blue ones last)
pointless like seven new pairs of earrings
and pizza goldfish alternated by Craisins alternated by original goldfish
and my rainbow umbrella when it hasn't rained for days and I haven't left the room
With this extra breathing room in my mind
I can finally make the categories
To pick up the things
and put them into their little boxes
And label them with the sharpie
Until the smell hurts too much
and then I can take them back out again
as I please
and put together
wreaths of beauty
bound up by transitions
and violent verbs
tie a bow of conclusion onto the bottom
and label them for those professors
who deserve something prettier
than the contents
of my messy room.
warmed with the touch of the back of my skirt
surrounded by piles
yet not feeling claustrophobic
for my surroundings have filled
with the contents of my mind
a suitcase whose clasps can't hold it together anymore
and it is such a relief
to see the bits of my self
scattered about
joyous like brie
and silver wrapping paper
and bizarre combinations of V8 Splash in a baby Nalgene
painful like notebooks and coursepacks
and the headphone wire that I keep treading on
and two pairs of scissors, lying, blades spread viciously, on the gray floor
comforting like my New Jerusalem Bible
and fourteen plants strewn precisely about the space
and Shaw's children's chewable vitamins (I eat the blue ones last)
pointless like seven new pairs of earrings
and pizza goldfish alternated by Craisins alternated by original goldfish
and my rainbow umbrella when it hasn't rained for days and I haven't left the room
With this extra breathing room in my mind
I can finally make the categories
To pick up the things
and put them into their little boxes
And label them with the sharpie
Until the smell hurts too much
and then I can take them back out again
as I please
and put together
wreaths of beauty
bound up by transitions
and violent verbs
tie a bow of conclusion onto the bottom
and label them for those professors
who deserve something prettier
than the contents
of my messy room.