Endless


I want to be better
for you, for others
I want to be better mostly for me

Every so often I swing open the folding doors and peer in
through the dust and quiet and uncomfortable warmth
The hurt is layered so deep
My hands slice through the darkness
As I push back racks upon racks upon racks
of stiff hefty garments in an infinite wardrobe
I pull out a jacket
Study it
Iron it
Smooth it out
I put it back nicely up on the rack
and watch the hanger swing ever so slightly
I stare in to space for a few seconds too long
and once again I am lost in the folds
of the endless materials that take up the cluttered closet of my mind
I don't want to be this way, standing here in the dark
but these doors have a habit of closing in on themselves

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