God’s My Interior Decorator

Note: My first poem in a long time. Rough Draft. A little emo. Real flashbacks. My growing theory of the human psyche.


For years

I passed a note

And still today

They told me she left school in tears

Men, Women, myself with my eyes closed

My father hugged me

Carried boxes, lamps

And blocked out the alien creaks

Books, corpses, manuscripts of arguments

When I said ‘fuck you’ and felt like a poet.

To be tossed about the floor.


Now adulthood is upon me,

He never reached it

And I am to sort this mess

He couldn’t sort his. He told me on greened bench.

With a dying flashlight.

Neither could I.


Saul was blinded by light.

I’m still scared of the dark.