by uzwi

Too many boxes, too many wires, too many books on the floor, too many bits of paper you don’t feel you can get rid of yet. Too many old computers. Too many things you meant to do three years ago & now they’re always in the way of thinking about the things you need to do today. They’re down there in the hall, they used to be objects but now they’re abject, the remains of all deferred decisions, and they’re there for you now, waiting to catch at your foot in a small room while you’re desperate to be thinking about something else. So many old clothes, on rails or hanging off the back of doors, offering the same old used to be, until you’re compelled very suddenly to cut off large amounts of yr beard & thank god for soup, toast & a bit of sunshine.