Corners, too many in my abode…
Rabble of objects
Hidden everywhere
Unfinished projects
Interrupted ideas
Incompleteness everywhere
Works in progress
Languishing in despair
Dried liquids, caked powders
Chains tangled and twisted
Jewelry, clothing, lying unworn
Knick-knacks I’d forgotten existed
Journals, some rough at the edges
Pages filled with disjointed prose
Some with covers pristine, less used
Filled with writing less verbose
Notes, greeting cards, invitations old
For future inspiration tucked away
Colors faded, gathering dust
Bent, torn, to be discarded one day
Without as much as a second look…
The clutter, its scale, its ability
To fill every available nook
Sends me into a stance of immobility..
Who said things of beauty
Should bring you joy forever
Collectively they create eyesores
Seeing clutter robs me of pleasure..
Passion...unbridled 