cleaning up the house
means
cleaning out the cobwebs in my emotions
means
cleaning for the first time
in a long time
means
organization
[which i love]
means
getting things out
to put them back again
means
maybe
maybe
maybe
getting rid of some things
[and that’s the most terrifying
concept and
consequence of all]
i feel as though
every thing
in my life could use a little
clean up
pick up
organization
my laptop, with its
struggle to continue on in life/
my phone, with its
constant warning of running out of storage space/
my house, with its
clutter damn near everywhere
and i don’t even know if i can find official places
for everything/
my head, with its
chaotic way of remembering everything unimportant
and forgetting damn near everything important
unless it’s told to me at least twice
what would even help
at this point?
i have a whole half of a table
open for use
but i choose
to set up my laptop as close
to the mess of the other half
as possible
i suppose i work best
in cluttered
chaos
i wish i had a head for organizing
in an empty space—
to see what could come of nothing/
to observe the puzzle pieces as they fit
perfectly
together
where once there was void
i am of the kind of mind
that gets overwhelmed with too much choice
the minute you give me parameters
the minute you give me shelves and labels
the minute you give me a bag with sections
or a dishwasher with the levels and dividers
i’m great at fitting in
more than what the average person might fit
but i feel like such a fool/square/failure
to not be able to go from nothing
to something
i always need something
to jump off from
[this poem is not just about organization]
when
did i become a human
who
enjoys the organization of things
but still prefers
the music
of carefully crafted chaos?
[have i always been like this,
i just didn’t have the awareness
of specific neurons firing
to step back
and see my views in this
way?]
i think
the reason
i enjoy organizing books
and tangible things
for fun
is the same reason
i can’t seem
to organize
my digital
life
physicality is separate
from me
from my mind
so i have some semblance
of control
over
it
virtual
online
digital
means to an end
end up emulating
what my brain is doing
so disorganization
is the only way i
survive
(i wish
there was another
way to
thrive)
did some things
yesterday
this morning
just now
will continue to do things
as the day goes by
(a nice thing about holidays
when you’re still placing caution
from The Virus™
before familial or friendship
hangouts)
and the accomplishments
of cleaning
and organizing
can breathe new life
into this small box
and make it
more like
home.
i guess i could…
use my morning pages time
to read and edit and rewrite and post
all the poems that have come thus far ?
maybe?
~~~
quietly track the purring
in rhythm with the caffeine beats
thumping [softly] out of these
shitty laptop speakers
the aesthetics you always thought you’d have
you surpassed with unexpected privilege
leaving you with the existential question
why?
~~~
and unrelatedly
why
does organizing
make me feel so much better?
.
. .
. . .
(i know why;
it’s because my brain is the opposite of organized.)
kipventures 