The storage space pales my face lacking grace
The storage space needs storage space to be wiped clean off the slate
I cram it, cram it
I cram it with guts, the guts of my existence
Crates and boxes
Cupboards and drawers open and close all day long in frustration
What do I have to put into the storage space?
Things fleetingly used,
Books become bricks
Clothes become dead sheep
So I need storage space for transient purchases
Once used items or to bury memories
Hide failures, cover over failings
Fears and obsessions, maps of losses, leftovers on plates
Mikes New Web 