Crooked Lamps

Heroes on the walls, thrashing in the halls

Candle wicks are burnt, empty wax can’t be lit

Organized and clean, emptier it seems

Chaos fills the space, unnerves the human race

I borrowed it to use it, keep forgetting to put it back

They always end up missing it

They always notice that it’s gone

Street sign stolen, radio broken

Cheaply, plainly, stacked alone

Broken guns still need a trigger

Crooked lamps still need a home

It came to me in the mail

I saved it just to send it back

The color is off putting

It seems to lack a certain flair

Not like what was left to me 

By the previous occupants of my small, square room

Now that possession I’d have kept

I’d have valued, held onto forever

Maybe they’ll remember

Maybe they’ll want it back

If they come to get it

I’ll say all nonchalant

I borrowed it to use it

Keep forgetting to put it back

I didn’t think you’d miss it

I’m surprised you noticed that it’s gone

It’s tilting off the edge, see

I’m tilting off with it

Searching like a man obsessed

Pouring over it inch by inch

Trying to find satisfaction

A shred will do, a tiny pinch

For a second or two, move down, continue

A ship in a bottle, confuzes, bewilders

Obsidian stones, amaze and catch light

An old souvenir tells a sad little story

And crooked lamps still need a home