Caught in a jungle of my memories

they cling to what I own

i made the discovery

they were not my rock, but a stone

smooth, round, and cyclical bound

they clutter my mind

yet don’t make a sound

 

this house adorns my treasures

the most loyal of my friends

a plethora of  pleasures

like all things, sure to end

time elapses, affinity fades

each item once cherished

now inflicts a malaise

 

though I yearn for something new

ill accumulate till I’m subdued

the house so hefty; unable to hug

devoid of what once left me snug

 

peace of mind is what I implore

not prepackaged won’t be sold in a store

you can’t buy happiness for she is no whore

 

simplicity engrained

in the answer to my cry

if you focus on your actions

instead of what you buy

a dedication to detraction

may help you say goodbye.