The ex ain’t coming to clean your room

14

May 2 by The Running Son

messy_room

 

The ex ain’t coming to clean your room

 

Jesus. My room.

It’s a damn mess

best grab you broom

and the whole damn cleaning chest

You tune the radio

I’ll remove my shadow

to wait on the patio.

You brew your magic

I’ll brew up

two cups

of “I’m glad

for your

cleaning

habit”.

 

I just found out my ex Di, can’t come to clean my room. And I’m pissed. Not at her though, at her employer, my ex-uncle-in-law-to-be. Don’t ask. It’s a story I wouldn’t recite for God Himself if he tried threaten it out of me. Too complex… too tiring.

Except she works for him. Bastard. I have a lot of respect for him, but dammit.

My mother is a hoarder. And it’s some Freudian bullshit that I run head-on into a psychological wall whenever I try to clean organize or downsize.

I was up half the night writing a new poem, A Union of Opposites, which wore me out more emotionally than any writing ever did. I am in no place to take this disaster on.

So I wrote a poem about it too, above. Didn’t do crap for my avalanche of a room, but it blurred the edges a little. I can squint my eyes and visualize how it will look the next time Di get’s time off to come by.

The poetry never ceases.

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14 thoughts on “The ex ain’t coming to clean your room

  1. WilderSoul says:

    Would she come and clean my room too? (I am entirely kidding.)

  2. […] A Union of Opposites •on blog schizophrenia poetry battles and doing art like its armageddon •the ex aint coming to clean your room •oh yeah i forgot to mention im a jew yeah im in a rhythm •on the perminant record period […]

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RunningSon aka Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013 | This site is dedicated with the deepest gratitude to Dr. Cláudio Naranjo, whose writings gave me life.

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