My room

                                              is a work of art

on the unvacuumed           canvas

lies heaps

of U.C.S's

(unidentified clusters of                ****)

heaps                                   ­           that are only destroyed

during nights             ...                                 ...                                     .. .    .  .

that are fueled with       anxiety

or

just pu re
                    r
                   
                                      estles snes s  .

These imperfect     shapes

scattered

in comforting patterns

my          compiled life

in pieces   .

But I'm st ill restless.

The artist

is

never truly satisfied with

her

work

the mes s of          my                     life

tossed comfor tably to the ground

until i am provoked by                       ...                              ...               .. .

...

Each Article

I nd i v i dually held

Set    in   place

Stumb

                                               ling upon

Lost object  s       ... .             .

forgotten   fabrics that

held you unquestionably.

a nostaliga

art

revealing things

you were probably already looking for .