spring cleaning

Theres a method to the madness of this attic Im accustomed to
But every spring I try to visit with a brush and broom
Dust consumes this collection of souvenirs
And tonight Id like to erase any proof that you were here
Lets begin with a look inside of a shoe box
Heres my youthful aspiration to be 2pac
A book on Darwin with photos of the Galapagos
Heres a picture of the father that I never got to know
A shot my mother bathing her babies in a sink
A mediocre poem that I wrote in golden ink
And over here is a crate of academic records
I traded in for vinyl when I learned I could apply em better
Its apparent that I havent cleaned in ages when Im finding
Social studies books with porn between the pages
Born in fetal stages and cluttered ever since
This attic needs the vacancy to make some room to think
But in the corner theres a chest thats under lock and key
And possibly the target of the cleansing
And as it opens theres a part of me thats over it and part of me
That wants to keep remembering
Dear John
Im ecstatic that we met and I
Havent been upset from the night we spoke on the beach
It feels like theres a part of me thats hollow
And Ill follow you because I think youve got the missing piece
Dear John
Cant believe its been a year, wish that you were here with me in this unfamiliar city
I know youre insecurities are eating you alive , but Im thinking of your eyesevery time we...
Dear John,
Im the victim of a city serpents venom and Im being sent away
In search of purpose
It hurts that anniversaries are only words to me and lately Ive been wondering why you thought I was worth it
She ran shoe less through shards of my heart of glass toward a garden of golden roses with invisible thorns
And her presence in my attic is an umbilical cord that pulls my physical form towards her miserable storm
I stripped the picture frames of their faces
And liberated shackled chain letters from my ankles and wrists
And kept my fingers from the edges of the envelopes and anything
That might have had a dance with her lips