Poem: The Closet By Orville Lloyd Douglas.

I keep my old photographs, books, T-shirts, DVDs, and clothes  in my closet.

I sometimes forget which artifacts are important or not?

I don’t dwell about the objects in my closet because it is not a temporal space.

I know whenever I need to pick up something it has a telepathic power.

Everything in this place has a feeling, a moment, that I can access this energy.

For some the closet is wonderful, during the winter cold nights an old black turtleneck keeps me warm.

I remember an old white and red  high school T-shirt my beloved gave me.

I still wear it at night time.

Sometimes I have visions that I am constricted in a chair with my hands tied behind my back.

My mouth is covered with tape and I can’t move.

I turn and try to move but I can’t seem to become free.

I hate wearing that red and white T-shirt, it reminds me of being a  prisoner to the emotions of others.

I am drowning in the anguish of not really being me.

I recall not being a human being whenever I have this shirt it feels like ticks are eating my flesh.

I toss and turn as maggots, bed bugs, spiders,  are circling my body whenever I put this shirt on.

I finally decided to burn the white and red T shirt and set it on fire.

Now I no longer have to worry about insects crawling or hurting me anymore.