AntiPoetics - Poetry - Closet Tetris

Closet Tetris

I've been shuffling boxes...
it's something of a hobby.
I don't know where anything is,
but I know where everything is.
It's just this hole,
like my life,
that I fill
with the random pieces
and things I've collected.
That's where it all goes.
So, I'm listening to "Spilt Needles" by The Shins.
I keep listening to it...
over and over.
I don't know why everything's so weird.
It's just how it is.
I have a headache that isn't a headache.
Maybe it's heart ache
without the heart.
The big question is...
what happens
when the closet's full?

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