better than Botox

Topic: Cleaning up Written for A Literation. Check it here: http://aliteration.com/

my methods will give me wrinkles, one day.
I strew papers on my floor
and drape clothes on my furniture until
the white of my carpet is masked
and there’s just enough room on my bed
for a me-shaped space.
at the end of it all my room looks like it was hit
by a category-five hurricane;
a tropical storm that
impedes my walking and
raises tempers until
my mom gets fed up at the
chaos
and picks it up for me.

I let thousands of emails pile up in my inbox.

my locker is a mess of things I’m
too lazy to throw away.

so, too, are
my heart
and my brain.
I’ve got things buried in both,
twisted emotions shoved behind
dusty stacks of worries,
amalgamations of lingering thoughts, 
and pieces of daydreams, but this time
there’s no one but me to
discard the excess
when it becomes too much
and I can no longer
breathe.

sometimes I think
about what it might take for me to
get off of my a*s
and bring out the dustbin
so that I can stop wondering what it would be like 
to be clean,

clean,
like freshly shampooed rugs,
like uncluttered desks,
like the light cerulean of an infant’s eyes.

Author's Note

I don't really have anyone else edit my poems, so they're all kind of word vomit. Go ahead and rip it apart.