A Hoarder’s Fine Mess (Poem)
Empty bottles overflow from a dented garbage can,
Dust settles undisturbed on a broken fan.
Nicotine sticks to the windows and stains the walls,
Dirty piles of laundry and junk mail litter the halls.
Margarine containers and old pickle jars,
Crowd in with torn dolls and battered toy cars.
Loose Queen of Hearts scatter, separated from the pack,
Along with a torn wrapper from some long forgotten snack.
Crates of unworn clothes and stacks of unread books,
Are crammed into all the available cracks and nooks.
An overflowing collection of plastic shopping bags,
Compete for space with receipts and outdated tabloid rags.
Dozens of matted, stray cats meow somewhere,
A few are stuck under one of ten dryers in need of repair.
Rotten food and feces attract vermin and flies;
The stench of it induces vomit and stings the eyes.
But don’t worry – tomorrow the clutter will be put away,
Until then, though, right over here it must stay.
And it’s much too important to be tossed in the trash;
It has sentimental value and might be worth some cash.
Once upon a time this stuff held perceived significance,
But as it decays please explain what is the difference?
Any importance has been lost and buried under the stress,
Of the much greater significance of this fine mess.