I'm living under boxes again
surrounded by the reminder
that my life is so small
all of my things,
packed up neatly
and then sloppily
a perfect divide of attention

I only feel clear,
only when things are gone
and away from my fiending mind
I sit alone in my room
and feel a little more at home

The cat sits, too
on and around my lap
nuzzeling up against me sweetly
with out a care in the world

I'm moving again
to a new home
one with a bright, new beginning
sitting beneath a train,
with a half view of the smoggy city.