Writer's Aftermath

writer's aftermath
(poem / 2007)

When I got back from my room
((which had been quietly and unstoppably reigning over me
like a lover - the way i loved a girl once -
seductively letting me leave and expecting me back)
I found the rest of the world was all too real...
it hadn't really missed me too much; anyway,
hundreds of candy wrappers sit mob-style on a side table
there's Christmas lights strewn all over the floor
clothes claim areas of the floor and inch toward each other like floodwaters rising over islands
the keyboard, now superseded, sits in a reveredly empty section
of the gray carpet (a novel's been through it so it earned some prestige)
the eight-inch cable-ready tv, the '90s stereo relic, the blankets, cables, telephones, cds, books, books upon books, notebooks, dr. pepper cans, stuffed animals i pretend i don't still have, chairs, bed, the duct tape book, pen, ipod, skin, muscle, bone.
These things clamor to be paid attention,
(they're lonelier than i am) and they abound like tides rising and failing
will i ever leave for good?),
I sighed.