Making things usually left his desk a little cluttered, and he loved to make stuff
Everything started within reach, but by the end, some of creative debris was in the other room
Someday he would learn to put everything back in its place when he was done with it
Still, he thought of his whole experience in terms of his need to be creative, not that the output was a chaotic…
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Ever wonder what’s inside?
Not opening it, but imagining the contents.
Viewing it held up to the light to get a hint.
Everything telling you not to open it.
Laying it down on the desk you try to walk away
Only you can’t.
Pushing you to your breaking point until you give up and rip the seal
Everything changes in that moment.
Pushing a pile of it across her desk back in 2019
All she wanted was to bury her head and ignore the rest of it
Perhaps somehow find a wormhole in reality and fall in
Emerging in her house, free from any of those damn dead trees
Reality hit her during the pandemic. Electrons were even worse than …
Clutter of electronics covered his desk like high tech lichen on a wooden rock
Reality bending miracles of the past now mere pieces and memories
And he kept contributing new relics to the collection
Swearing, he flicked the switch again, but
His computer still wasn’t booting, just more of the blue plague infecting his vision
He looked at the clutter around him. Neglected, half-finished dreams littered the desk, table, and sections of the floor. At one point each project had held so much life and promise, but now they were on life support, or worse yet zombified corpses. He wondered what was the best approach going forward. Maybe he should just put everything away and pull out pieces when he was ready to resurrect them, but that would mean confronting his failures, and he wasn’t emotionally prepared to do that just yet. Besides, he had a brand new idea, and he knew it would work.
He looked at his desk and wondered where his day went. He kept moving things around, putting away the clutter, but he still couldn’t find it. In the morning it dawned on him…
Obviously moving out of his cubicle was kind of a big thing
Furniture could stay though. Joe was moving on up.
Full boxes piled high, he snaked through the doorway
It felt good to put his stuff on top of his desk
Couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he was able to close the door
Even though this kingdom was small, it was his and only his
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Didn’t you know it? This was going to go down to the wire
Every word was being counted, but the paper still wasn’t long enough
And he still had to organize his bibliography
Disheveled notes cluttered the floor beneath his desk
Littered with disparate ideas he was trying to weave into a coherent narrative
It almost made him cry when he thought of it.
Not getting it done would make him cry even more, though, so he kept typing
Eventually, he submitted it and began to pray. It was late, but maybe Doc wouldn’t notice
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Limping into work, Liza felt crappy
As she got to her desk she got a call that she needed to go to HR
Manager there told her she was being let go because of an inappropriate joke
Eventually, she stumbled home, physically, mentally, and emotionally…
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Pushing the paperwork across his desk
Larry knew he wasn’t the most exciting man
As a matter of fact, he preferred that he was so stable
It made his life nice and predictable
Now if he could just convince himself of that
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Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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Never Short On Words 