Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
There are no hammers in my room.
No tactical advances which need enhancements.
no broken bits of furniture in need of further
assessment.
There are no screwdrivers.
no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut.
destroyed.
nothing blotchy or broken.
or to say this house is less than homely.
There are no hammers.
no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut.
destroyed. Deconstructed. Detonated.
No little lines on the carpet, no rusty pipes beneath my sink
There are no razors in my bathroom
nothing which brings blood from my retinas
nothing stinks of mold, nothing sinks in the carberater
escaping excavation
measure the short comings of my
makings, and takings, and tasks.
There are no dust mites beneath my bed
there are nothing but soap and cleansing masks.
sleeping with the boogy man, sharing his head
space,
no naked, termites in my walls.
skeletons in my closet.
nothing that would appall an exterminator.
nothing which says this house is less than
homely.
My mind is not nearly this neat.
Written by
Jane Doe  28/Non-binary
(28/Non-binary)   
700
   Maria
Please log in to view and add comments on poems