My Unstable Poetry

noise

the clatter of pans screams it's way across the house in a little suburb
The land shining bright with not-so dead grass and a small wooden porch
The dishwasher screams in the morning, like it's trying to tell us something
The loud thumping outside my window seems like someone is tapping for a nights rest, but it's really just the machinery outside
My video playing habit runs into the kitchen, where all the other noise spreads
It's rebounds like a basket, that just could've made it in
The shuffling of our foot steps carefully around the bins, still needing unpacked
Everything's covering up what was left behind, old floor boards and Jesus left behind