Within The Chaos

Homelife is chaotic

wading through the garbage

haven't even opened the door

Underneath all the trash

my floorplan is simple

two bedrooms, two bathrooms

one kitchen ,one balcony

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Beneath the grime

invisible glove prints

once upon a time paid professionals

installed a carpet, they bought fresh doors

wiped the windows and replaced the blinds

Before all my junk was stored in boxes

I was living in another house with the same history

paid professionals mowed the lawn every morning

I get to take it for granted

cause it wasn't my job

They fix all of the left behind damage

In the eyes of the repairman

every tenant is a clean up project in waiting

They don't come over to gab

they come over to fix our mistakes

I know the truth about janitors

they know life is temporary

all things breakdown, they know the weight

of heavy machinery

No other people work as hard

as manual laborers

they hold the tools in their hands

constructing others designs

harvesting clay and brick

They own junkyards and they live as masters

of their equipment

our little worlds in apartments and studios

will inevitably be emptied out and wasted

I'm never going to know the name of the person who designed my building

I'll find no memorial in my bathroom for the plumbers

I'll find no dedications outside of the elevator

no trophies or prizes

shadows in plain sight

eyes and ears that could spot any flaw

and fix it while never asking for praise

they are humble and they are everywhere

Imagine what they could do if we made them angry

My house is a mess at all times, single or with family

I function in world that will only exist for a few more years

before it shifts to a new location

this is an unescapable temporal shift within the life of the low income poet

I'm going to be quite the assignment when I'm gone

after I've moved on

it took the last company a week to get rid of my mess

one week to clean up spilled wine, one week to wonder why there are scratch marks on the windows

why a gold cross was nailed to the ceiling

one week to find my initials carved into the plaster at the base of my bed

Another couple days to repaint the walls

to conquer my shadows shadow

they always do and they always will

because that is what the repairmen are paid for

I left more behind than just my dirt

I left a hidden message on the concrete where I used to smoke

they'd have to tear the sidewalk apart to get rid of it

The message reads Happy Halloween. Now you know

nobody even noticed. We're not so different

we both function in the shadows, we work better without other people around

no matter what, people like us will always exist

within the chaos.

-James Otter