My world is full of stuff
it’s mainly layers of paper.
Carefully stored in piles.
I might use that photo as an inspitation,
For a painting or a drawing,
I might need that statement,
I might read that book
But piles of stuff turn into columns,
Columns start to tower over you.
Idea. ” I’ll tidy up”.
Trouble is you have to deconstruct.
Build new towers to winnow out stuff.
Some stuff to burn or shred,
Some stuff to give to charity,
Some stuff to read,
Some stuff to pile back up,
till I find space on a bookshelf……
I’ll just go and lie down in a darkened room.