KNICKKNACKS


doodads, bric-a-brac, knickknacks?
well, yes, house full, actually.

 no more room, not for
one more single piece.

 amazingly, stuff keeps on coming.
always seems to be room,
room for just one more piece;

 turning into many more pieces.
turning into hoarders delight. 

devolved, a garrulous old fart.
lost now, between what is,
what was, and all of that.

 what will be is no long past.
so long, you old fart;
you've had your time.

 move over, make room
for a new crowd of 
young happy little farts.


nothing changes because
everything changes, but
does not change, but
what everything stays the same.

 at least till it rains. unless it snows.
snow really blows;
messing up all things changed.

told myself a lie so
confounded ridiculous 
no one  in their right mind
would ever believe such a lie.

 but I believed it, which does
not speak well of me,
and bothers me to no ends.

 also frightens me immensely
that I should believe this ridiculous
confounded lie I told  myself.





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