This is my room now

This is my room now. 

I need to empty it. 

All those words in all those diaries and all those stories like refrigerator magnets and puzzles they break apart like un-diagrammable sentences

Crowding the room with random utterances

Piling up like walls of word matter

newspaper strips coated in wheat paste,

clinging to this balloon face

retaining images in negative space

the shape is lost as layer after layer of newspaper strips are laid on top of one another

and I can’t breathe

No one ever peels the words off

Criticisms like black rocks thrown violently into baskets of light,

the wet tagliatelle’s of sticky strips of words

block out the light

and I dwell in the negative spaces

surrounded by the implements and detritus

of things I love to do

Books I want to read

Photo albums and home movies to be edited

I hung up my phone

Turned off the ringer

Switched off the TV

Clicking a “like” button, lots of “shares”

Meaningless validations tossed into the ether

I can hear the Makaewa Bay wind

The house, like me, is all closed up

I desire no interaction

Yet crave company

Just a couple more days and nights of not returning phone calls

Staying inside

Writing out, not venturing out

Pull the covers up and turn out the light

This is my room now

I need to empty it.

Published by Ms. C. G. Tripp

Catherine G. Tripp, Writer/Investor a lifelong mix. Left brain and right brain battle for dominance. I wrote the marketing materials for my mortgage brokerage, had a personal finance column at, wrote essays, short stories and poems published in school papers and magazines then literary journals. If my writings were a color, they would be yellow, bright as sunlight, highlighting the salient portions, not obscuring the past but deconstructing air brushed stories, finding humor and courage in the unloved corners.

One thought on “This is my room now

  1. Yes, I understood. We experience something similar in these challenging CoVid times.

    Days of solitude and clearing rooms and words and sorting through memories, not wanting to talk to anyone… wondering what does it all mean, this past life – before CoVid… how will we change our priorities in the collection of more words and memories ?

    Liked by 1 person

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