The hoarder’s garage is no place in which one would want to die.

Life in this chamber to Outside smiles wanly up at drooping fluorescents for energy or

Hangs on to the soles of marching feet.

Most other life forms here aren’t as lucky to keep beating, though.

That which teems with life is the lifeless, for

Not all beings can photosynthesize in a dungeon of cement.

Abiotic islands of forgotten belongings constitute the

Archipelago that refuses to disappear despite rising sea levels and boiling temperatures Inside.

The rain you’ll find here is the kind that requires a Zyrtec by the allergy-prone human.

The oceans are the ones you can surf by climbing onto waves of displaced junk.

The runoff is the stream of guts which ooze from the buzzing freezer.

Festering and rotting since 2009, fumes of deer meat

Intermingle with the ice caps which crack and crumble as the

Climate always changes.

This room tells tales of adventures- both fulfilled and imagined.
It promises opportunities to go– these lie in forms of bicycles with squeaky tires,

Size 6 shoes from the 1990s, and broken suitcases so heavy you might as well

Lighten your load by a third.

You may find a treasure of a memory here- such as the time a curry-colored Tofu escaped on the 

Eve of your birthday party, waddling lightning-fast, only to be 

Lured by a peanut buttered carrot. 

Other times, you’ll remind yourself that this is the place where sea dragons guard your family’s 

Secrets and unwanted items. 

My brother’s uprooted room lies as one of the islands. This one sinks the fastest, the water

Burying it without batting an eye. 

Amid all the rubble, ash, and unwavering tempests, beings still find ways to sleep.

If they never escape, they lie with legs up, pointing to the 

Hole-y stars in the gridded ceiling sky for eternity, waiting to be stomped Outdoors or 

Chomped up by the fan broom that never quite picks up as much as you want it to. 

On the bright side, you can’t say the garage doesn’t have style. Its pop of 

Macabre interior design is mesmerizing- pieces of decor like no other that sit 

Stained in your brain like swirling black ink that has long dried. 

Such is the power of art, I suppose, to ensnare the gaze in 

Melancholic shock and bring the knees creaking 

Closer.

In this moment, breath caught in a net of horror, 

I found that the most striking hue is that which 

Seeps from bodies. 

This corpse- neither game nor flora, rather, a jiving being who got 

Trapped in an insular maze and couldn’t find its way Out- lie victim to unforeseen circumstances.

Ebony and ornamented with hues of fire, the

“Devil’s Horse” lay crumpled and crispy in a ferrous swatch of maroon, 

Never to dance another jig.

I wonder if it pined for the sun’s rays through checkered panes

Before the fluorescents’ melody drowned out the harmony’s gallop.

  Gulping rain showers, becoming

Lost in uncharted territory,

Acrididae turned to stone, contributing to the 

Rocky islands of the archipelagic garage with nothing to remember it by but the blood 

Drunk by the concrete slab itself.

Of all beings here, living and passed, the grasshopper still chirps dust in my memories.

Stumbling upon the murder scene, I couldn’t muster to peel my eyes away. 

The dead really don’t look any better up close-

 Especially when everything surrounding them is

Lifeless, too.