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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Hello there, do please come inside- no need to wipe your feet excuse the mess, I fear you'll find it isn't very neat. This place is always untidy, victim of my disorder from old hang-ups to memories, I'll admit I am a hoarder. In here hanging like mobiles, noisy, at odds with my feelings are life's little distractions, niggling, swinging from the ceiling. Careful with your torch, don't shine it underneath the bed beneath it there is lurking a dark sprouting creeping dread. Most people couldn't live with it, a disturbing thing to some, as it cowers in the corner from the things still yet to come. Tread lightly in the corridor, just mind out where you walk you'll trip on my anxiety that bobs up like a cork. The fire is stoked, the hearth is swept and logs stacked in a heap my warmth to all well tended (well, except when I'm asleep). Cardboard tubes in disarray, and more you cannot see- plans I drew up in the past, none ever meant to be. Mannequin in veil of black, arms raised as if to dance with all my past relationships that never stood a chance. This rocking chair, my temper, that sometimes I must sit in and you'll notice that the varnish of my patience has worn thin. My sense of humour's in the loft, protected by my hats seemed like the right place for it, since my friends all think I'm bats. That one small window by the beam lets my faith's light shine in I'm sorry it's not brighter, window dirty from past sin. Still, I can climb and open it to aim my telescope for somewhere in the darkness lies the faintest glimpse of hope that keeps me living here in peace and shelters me from sad; you wonder why I live in here? Well, out there- its just mad! September16th 2015 For contest 'Inside my head'- sponsor John Lawless
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