paintings line the wall.

paintings line the wall.

my dresser perpetually stuck in a place of drawers overhanging each other

i’m too lazy to close them

a couple pairs of shoes

pencils and pens

an architecture book received when i was 10

i wasn’t 10

for some reason i have a periodic table behind my desk that has a monitor on it

i don’t use the monitor for anything

but sometimes i do

and it doesn’t change how i work at all

those paintings that line the wall

were painted by the person

some of them were found in old garages that my parents raided

they didn’t but that’s a cooler story i think

i tore up a calender because the graphics on it were of more use to me than keeping time

i have multiple lamps and only one that stays in constant use

the one by my bed

but not for reading as it is for most people

no

bc i just like being able to turn over, grab a notebook, jot down an idea

and then turn the light back off

so maybe it is the same exact as other people

that’s the point i guess

my bookshelf actually looks to be in a good place

but i hid books in a dresser because i was scared of what my parents might think of me reading them

books about consciousness from a neurological perspective

books from Richard Dawkins, who to be honest, is not that intriguing

other books that i just like

like Hemingway

who cusses like a maniac at points yet writes the most voracious and poetic sentences i’ve ever read

so while i sit and type away

at whatever story this is

if it even is that

i just think of the paintings on the wall

and what they mean

because they came from the person

storied.