There is a problem when you start feeling like things have feelings. Intellectually you know they don’t have feelings, but the thought of them sitting lonely and abandoned in some dump or recycling station breaks your heart. Thrift shops feel like a field of lost dreams. However, clutter can take over your life and prohibit your dreams. (PS The images are not from my own cluttered place or of me.)
Image via Wikipedia
Each object I hold dearly
I added one by one.
Accumulated over years
To the number they’ve become.
I cannot shed them easily
For in my mind they do resist.
My mind it does quirk funnily
Now by possessions I’m possessed!
That broken vase,
That childhood bike
I must pause.
My first recorder mike.
They are objects inanimate,
But to them my brain spirit grants.
When parting with I hesitate,
Feeling like I am abandoning friends.
For I am possessed by my possessions.
That is a crisis to be sure.
I am trapped by their occupation.
I wonder, is an exorcism a cure?
Image via Wikipedia
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