If you were to be a fly on the wall of my house, the first thing you'd notice is the vibrancy.
Even though I can't keep a plant to save my life
You still feel as though your lungs breathe deep and even in such small spaces,
The rooms feel so enourmous and expressive as a lot of personality lives here.
On a wall in the kitchen you'll find book shelves overflowing with
Stolen college books, language books, children's books, books about serial killers,
Books about animals, recipes, palmistry, a book from 1901, and a fuck ton of
Books I picked up while drinking coffee, lost time in those books,
Almost finished those books in one sitting,
Only to buy those books and never to open them again
But they keep the other books company so I don't
Feel
As
Bad.
If you were to be a fly on my wall you'd see me look and
Smile at all my little pretties sitting nicely
Every time I walk by to go get milk for the baby.
On the kitchen counter sits my little coffee pot,
Waiting for the next time I need my fix.
He knows he is the most important and he works hard.
If you were to be a fly on my wall,
You'd notice how quiet I am in here.
There's no music, no talking, no excitement,
no drinking (mostly), and no reason to put on clothes in this place.
I write in my daily journal on the Big Red Couch I got for $50 at a garage sale
Only to put a cover on it and make it my Big Orange Couch when the baby arrived
Since he is messy and likes to wipe his hands on everything.
I write there, colour there, paint there, sleep there, and enjoy my
Coffee and bagels there in the morning.
If you were a fly on my wall you wouldn't know how
Loud and full of life I am once I left those walls.
You wouldn't know how I smile at people because
In my home, I don't feel like I have to.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you'd know why it was clean when it was.
The dishes will always be done, the floor vacuumed, the laundry put up,
The beds made, the bathrooms clean, and the dining room table will
Never have anything on it - when I am distraught or stressed.
These episodes happen every couple of weeks and the whole house never gets the cleansing at the same time.
Laundry pairs with bathrooms, garbage pairs with vacuuming, and dishes can
have a share manic day with any chore
But they are always done silently and maybe even sometimes crying.
But they are done.
If you were to be a fly on my wall you'd know the baby's clothes all
hang in the closet because he is mischievous.
While you'd see that I love cleaning up his room over and over and over
Watching him destroy it in happiness
Over and Over and Over
The one thing I would not do is refold clothing.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you might ask about the room that is used
Significantly less than the rest.
You might think it the most interesting room of all - the room with all of the
Paintings, paint, the clay, the wood, the brushes, the canvas, the fabrics,
The glues, the sprays, the yarn, the glitters, the trinkets, the letters, the
Weird ass desk I got at yet another garage sale that could only
Possibly
Fit in a weird ass room as this one and not even look remotely out of place-
There; in there you'd wonder why I kept the door closed and the lights off,
Only to visit periodically when I thought
Just Maybe I'll make something today.
I'll poke my head in and smell the craft I have in my brain and plan it out
All without even stepping into the room to make the most beautiful decor in my house.
If you were a fly on my wall you'd see how sad my eyes get
When I think about how little time and attention
I spend in this room.
And I know it.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you'd know the room I spend time in is the one that I wish I never had to.
A place where a bed is most everyone's favourite place to be,
Yet over the years has brought me little comfort.
A place where people lay their head and dream blissfully
Is a place I dread laying my head and wait as long as I possibly can
Then wake up as soon as my body allows.
So jealous of their wonderful dreams and restful sleep
As I wake up from the chronic nightmares yet again.
What once made me cry and have my heart racing in the night has become a routine
That I've adjusted to- but not fully.
The screaming and crying and fire and ripping and crashing and falling still goes on
But when I wake, I'm back in the safety of my four walls,
Happy to start another day.
Even though I can't keep a plant to save my life
You still feel as though your lungs breathe deep and even in such small spaces,
The rooms feel so enourmous and expressive as a lot of personality lives here.
On a wall in the kitchen you'll find book shelves overflowing with
Stolen college books, language books, children's books, books about serial killers,
Books about animals, recipes, palmistry, a book from 1901, and a fuck ton of
Books I picked up while drinking coffee, lost time in those books,
Almost finished those books in one sitting,
Only to buy those books and never to open them again
But they keep the other books company so I don't
Feel
As
Bad.
If you were to be a fly on my wall you'd see me look and
Smile at all my little pretties sitting nicely
Every time I walk by to go get milk for the baby.
On the kitchen counter sits my little coffee pot,
Waiting for the next time I need my fix.
He knows he is the most important and he works hard.
If you were to be a fly on my wall,
You'd notice how quiet I am in here.
There's no music, no talking, no excitement,
no drinking (mostly), and no reason to put on clothes in this place.
I write in my daily journal on the Big Red Couch I got for $50 at a garage sale
Only to put a cover on it and make it my Big Orange Couch when the baby arrived
Since he is messy and likes to wipe his hands on everything.
I write there, colour there, paint there, sleep there, and enjoy my
Coffee and bagels there in the morning.
If you were a fly on my wall you wouldn't know how
Loud and full of life I am once I left those walls.
You wouldn't know how I smile at people because
In my home, I don't feel like I have to.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you'd know why it was clean when it was.
The dishes will always be done, the floor vacuumed, the laundry put up,
The beds made, the bathrooms clean, and the dining room table will
Never have anything on it - when I am distraught or stressed.
These episodes happen every couple of weeks and the whole house never gets the cleansing at the same time.
Laundry pairs with bathrooms, garbage pairs with vacuuming, and dishes can
have a share manic day with any chore
But they are always done silently and maybe even sometimes crying.
But they are done.
If you were to be a fly on my wall you'd know the baby's clothes all
hang in the closet because he is mischievous.
While you'd see that I love cleaning up his room over and over and over
Watching him destroy it in happiness
Over and Over and Over
The one thing I would not do is refold clothing.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you might ask about the room that is used
Significantly less than the rest.
You might think it the most interesting room of all - the room with all of the
Paintings, paint, the clay, the wood, the brushes, the canvas, the fabrics,
The glues, the sprays, the yarn, the glitters, the trinkets, the letters, the
Weird ass desk I got at yet another garage sale that could only
Possibly
Fit in a weird ass room as this one and not even look remotely out of place-
There; in there you'd wonder why I kept the door closed and the lights off,
Only to visit periodically when I thought
Just Maybe I'll make something today.
I'll poke my head in and smell the craft I have in my brain and plan it out
All without even stepping into the room to make the most beautiful decor in my house.
If you were a fly on my wall you'd see how sad my eyes get
When I think about how little time and attention
I spend in this room.
And I know it.
If you were to be a fly on my wall, you'd know the room I spend time in is the one that I wish I never had to.
A place where a bed is most everyone's favourite place to be,
Yet over the years has brought me little comfort.
A place where people lay their head and dream blissfully
Is a place I dread laying my head and wait as long as I possibly can
Then wake up as soon as my body allows.
So jealous of their wonderful dreams and restful sleep
As I wake up from the chronic nightmares yet again.
What once made me cry and have my heart racing in the night has become a routine
That I've adjusted to- but not fully.
The screaming and crying and fire and ripping and crashing and falling still goes on
But when I wake, I'm back in the safety of my four walls,
Happy to start another day.
