She who took abode between the mountains

August 13, 2013 § Leave a comment

Since you’re not here looking at it like I am I’ll just be honest and tell you my living space has become something of a mess. The last person in here I thought I trusted said it was horrendous, a disaster, and smelled like decayed shit which I hadn’t even noticed. And the rats were too much. That was two years ago. The rats have always been too much. I think I’ll have a house built with walls made from steel wool and poison. This is the only solution if I want to live like I live. I won’t ever have that I imagine because money is, tight. I don’t work anymore. My father pays the bills I need to survive but anything more like cable I don’t deserve because I’ve chosen this. I’d like to dance most days but I don’t have music and I don’t like the songs in my head and it’s really too crowded to even breathe so, I just kind of sit here swaying. I’m Eleanor; you can put a name to me. A label. My father labeled me a nut when I was sixteen. Even then I piled things and kept things. Papers on tables. Clothes yanked from drawers and hanging over racks; reeking in heaps behind the door, at the foot of the bed mixed with dirty things you’d assume was trash. Books on the floor reaching for the ceiling which finally collapsed when the earth shook. Drawers were filled with all things from art supplies to empty cigarette packs and paper airplanes and little plastic toys I’d find walking home from school, and buttons, lots of buttons. I still keep buttons but the piles are everywhere now. Down the hall are my childhood toys and my clothes and boxes of treasure given to me by neighbors seeking clearance. In all the closets I’ve stacked hundreds of bags of dirt and pots and planters because one day I’ll have a garden. I also keep markers. Black markers. The walls have all been tagged and decorated but you can’t really see it anymore. In the kitchen I’ve stacked the boxes from the four person lasagnas I’ve been gobbling up in one day since the fridge went out. I counted fourteen boxes last night.


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You are currently reading She who took abode between the mountains at /ambedo/ purging those entities of thought.


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