I don't think I spend too much,
But then I spill out my shoe
Collection, an addiction, sorted by hue.
Cupboards flung open to reveal the gradient of such
And don't get me started on bags and the clutch!

Rivers of life run deep,
But then I look at the contents of my journals;
The "now and not yet" cries reveal how hormonal
Am I. Dim focus on the eternal creeps
To cover more of the heart, I try to keep.

New year near and nearer;
But a return to stillness yearns.
When we hide, these addictions burn,
Igniting guilt, shame and all,
Where are you simplicity? Is this the fall?