Sunday, March 23

The Hoard

imageedit_3_9902845043The Hoard

Dirty wrinkled sheets on an empty bed
the room an overflowing ashtray.
Reading materials litter the floor
along with containers of putrefied food
the smell the only signs of life.

Hallways haphazardly cluttered
walking on top of the heap
windows and doors long blocked.
Bathroom caked in feces and filth
fly’s going through their life cycle in the kitchen.

Digesting depression and anxiety daily
wine gives everything a rosy glow.
Nibbling on canned peaches
and wondering why the cat is missing.
Come to think of it, I had 2 cats!

© Rebekka Sanchez 2014

Mag 212

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