arachnophobia helps me understand
why I’m afraid of the crawling sensation
on my skin but within?
I’m not equipped to handle
of a tickling behind my elbows
and at the back of my throat.
I want to lose myself in
the elevated name that hides
a basement show
some almost adults throw
dreaming of bigger stages
and faceless crowds.
I want to nurse a drink or two
and forget who it is
that knocks on my cheek
asking to be let in and in again
My home is not tidy
it is in disarray, senseless.
It’s not that I fear you’ll mind the mess
it’s that I’m afraid you’ll look for the sense
in the whorls of clothes on my floor-
look for meaning behind the torn-up loose leaf
in my waste bin I haven’t emptied in a month.
I’m afraid that you’re looking into a mess
hoping for a clear space to call your own.
I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to clean.