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