I experience freedom when
*
All around me
May be cleaned, vacuumed, polished
*
Fragments of my own reality
Revealed in slick surfaces
Encircled by the reach of my desires
Every time
*
With another added value
High intoxication from peeling paint on
Each unpreserved and improperly maintained surface
No wonder that
Each of the previous tenants has failed
Victorious can only be the one
Every time it dawns on me
Recalling the course of the action
*
I ponder inside and over my books while
*
Collecting dust from them
Lingering on the hope to read them all
Every now and then, the
Actual time will be given
Not yet while I quiver
*
Meticulously and strenuously
Yelling to the beat of my favourite music, playing and
*
Floating in the dust
Located everywhere, yet in just a few hours
Appearing to have another view
Transposed with my hands, duster, and vacuum cleaner
***
originally published at https://medium.com
***
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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (1)
Oh no, Mescaline, now you've crossed the line into meddling! You expect me to clean AND read all the books gathering dust on my shelves???? And yet, I hear ya. Nothing makes me more ready & free to enjoy any &/or all of the arts than a clean space. And nothing makes me more ready to create than a messy space, if for no other reason than to avoid cleaning, lol!