weeds: a collection of poetry

Hoarding.

I value things I can touch,
Things that money buys.
I love things that replace love,
Things that have no strings or ties.
Material matters matter more 
To me than any person could.

I value these things that I can touch,
Because these things cannot touch me.

Because plastic and vinyl cannot put their hands in places they shouldn't be.
Clothes and collectables cannot coerce courtesies out of me.
Posters and pins don't pin me down, like he did before. 

Before I started pinning things on my bedroom walls,
Before I started filling shelves and filling drawers,
I had a piece of me stolen, held up like a convenience store.
And I use the space to store my stuff
In hopes to feel like I'm enough.

And I objectify the people that surround,
Use them and toss them out
like broken toys into lost and found,
Where they'll gather dust and be forgotten about.

I'll polish my things and break my friends,
shatter them before they shatter me.
Because contrary to popular belief,
Contrivances were always there and always will be.

And artificial artefacts will collect and clutter.
I'll be smothered as they bury me,
And I'll maintain until my dying day,
that unlike you,
They'd never hurt me.