'I Cleaned My Room'
© Raul Cortes Jr. 11-12-2020
What a great feeling it is to organize my habitat.
Depression, rumination & stress suffocate my energy like I'm in a trap.
Thanks to the plandemic & isolation, I slightly understand an inmate's life.
No hugs, no kisses, no interpersonal communication. It can cause inate strife.
My door has no keyhole lock, so I keep a camcorder rolling before I leave.
My landlord is the epitome of misery looking for company.
I'm becoming immune to the ruthless nature of ghetto rent.
"Pay 50$ more Raul", I said "hell no, you're responsible for the fact the other tenant left".
The rent I pay for my room on earth, is service to others.
The biggest room in the world, is called improvement, all alone without a friend or other.
I can lay still awake, for hours at a time & I destroyed those lustful urges.
Social media always leaves something to desire, (depth beneath surface).
Restful days & most nights sleepless.
My mind is like a person who disrespects me & is never speechless.
I'm grateful, that a space is offered by art.
I can't be hateful, inspite what I face, though I struggle to regulate my heart.
It is dangerous to always be celebrated than to be humiliated.
I'm a soldier on his toes, I've grown from being perpetrated.
I am very meticulous when I write so folks can properly interpret my message.
Don't know how certain folks will take it & the universe wants to manifest it.
Sorrow continually generated, but the tears are dry with the wind.
I cry in literature, a rhyme as a tissue, a ginsu when circumstances are grim.
©polo
P