New Home

The sound of the house

is not right

flies buzzin’, cars keep runnin’

under my windows

loud conversations late at night

I’m closed in my own world

built from boxes, bags, bric-à-brac suitcases

containin’ my whole life

for a reduced price

My head is busy, headaches every day

they leave me on the edge

of madness and soundness

with impossibility

of breaking down

Is it good or bad?

So many things to take care of

Where is the place for

my usual free thinkin’?

Now it’s locked in a new reality

Startin’ anew –

is it good?

Every time it’s the same:

it begins with a hurricane in my head

inability to eat, vomittin’ the whole world

cleanin’ someone’s dirt and skippin’ mine

Do I have time for it?

Who’s goin’ to take care of me?

Girl, woman, nobody

Left alone to rot

*

July 2021

***

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.

You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.