I am surrounded by stuff
particular to me
with my present likes more prominent
and which no one around me wants

The spines of my books and folders
rest waiting like
the red eyed green dragon candle on my cabinet
for something I cannot fathom

Their wisdom remains cryptic
and elusive yet comforting
as the unknown origin of
“reality lies invisible in all this”

How does one organize
and tidy up
the decay in my teeth,
bones, and cells?