My life is in piles –

Piles of dishes

Piles of books on the floor

Piles of dirty laundry

Piles of rocks on my entryway table for some reason

Piles of papers and bills and artwork I can’t seem to part with but can’t seem to find space for.

My brain feels like a jumbled pile of thoughts stacked on top of each other –

The to-do lists

The appointments

The worries that wake me from a restless sleep.

No matter how often I shrink the piles –

Wash the plates

Fold the tiny shirts

Check off items from the list

Throw the rocks back into the driveway

They always come back; sometimes bigger than before.

And each day I look at my piles that seem to have been placed around the house by some sort of devious little poltergeist during my restless sleep and wonder how I will ever get rid of them.

And each day I wander from pile to pile, like a confused ghost

wondering who moved into my house and why do these squatters love rocks so fucking much?