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"unvacuumed" poems
I think that you might notice That I may have gone too soon When you stumble upon houses with not enough doors And too many empty rooms I think it might hit you When you walk past my swung open door With no warmth to the core With no bags on the floor So I'm not the coldest thing that you knew Honestly, it'll hit you When the carpets unvacuumed for days "It's so messy," you'll say Like this is fixed with a broom How's that house with no windows, And too many rooms? I don't fill my days with nothingness I don't sleep until noon For air, I crack the windows And I rearrange the rooms And it's fine by me If you think I can't leave a minute too soon Someday I'll return, won't look through your windows, Someday I won't want a room.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Unwelcome
Like the hands I allowed my cat to scratch and my unvacuumed floor and unwashed bed sheets, And the ability to go outside and improve myself I took you for granted.
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
Disregarded
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 .
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
something i was probably looking for
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 .
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