last night i came home
opened the beat up white notebook
that holds the almost year
of tortured words
i spread each letter
across the floor
of the living room
stood on the couch
and photographed
the collection
a carpet of chaos
frenzy
overwhelming
desperate sadness
and mindless babble
stared back at me through the lense
frida kahlo looked down
from her perch on the wall
behind me
her questioning
uni-brow furrowed with
displeasure at my display
