#dailywriting — Public Fediverse posts

storehouse syndrome

catch a smile on the air and
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing.

storehouse syndrome

catch a smile on the air and
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing.

storehouse syndrome

catch a smile on the air and
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing.

storehouse syndrome

catch a smile on the air and
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing.

storehouse syndrome

catch a smile on the air and
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing.

home at last

home at last where the walls are rumbling,
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last.

home at last

home at last where the walls are rumbling,
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last.

home at last

home at last where the walls are rumbling,
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last.

home at last

home at last where the walls are rumbling,
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last.

home at last

home at last where the walls are rumbling,
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last.