Chaotic

The old guitar I never play;

Three piles — towers made of books…

A few of them I still have to

Read, but I will… Someday

— I promise, stranger!

.

A few paintings on the walls,

And a box full of meds

To make me dream; to make me

Sick. Papers and papers —

Sketches. Unfinished projects

Written in notebooks. Watercolors, a few clothes,

And unhappy sheets on the floor. My
Island bed asks a question and

I say

— Nobody is coming tonight, anyway!

.

ML

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