Hoard

All life is a hoarding 

Look into a room used up 

And heaving within a constipation 

Of lifelard 

The whole an insane abhorrence 

Each hidden thing 

A hider of something else 

Turning into liquid underneath. 

The urge to intervene a simple one 

To dismantle the unnecessary 

Mass – pare back to the core 

Then sand and seal creating 

The great gift of empty space. 

Stand in it... stand in the unhorrifying 

Gift of empty space. 

And then what?