Books are on the table or on the shelf
I don’t really care
How many things are lying around in the house
These four empty coffee mugs
I have no idea when i had all these
All i remember is i was having black coffee
Why do I have so many chargers here?
And I have no memory of bringing all these notebooks
on this table.
But i just bear them
I would never otherwise.
But when I’m a complete mess inside
A mess around me strangely gives me comfort
So on days like these
I’m just a woman
Somewhere in the middle of her own created dirt.