This House Of Mind Poem by Cassie Kinney

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Three feet down, beneath the home lies sinister memories—

Swept underneath rugs and furniture from enemies.

Tuck back secrets in the suppressive basement of tendencies—

Coping with drugs and things to cosset dependencies.


In the attic—creeping and crawling—a much obscurer demon—

Reminding you to clean the House before depletion—

Lurking ‘round boxes and spectral corners, sights on reason.

Barely controlling Frantic, Fleeting concern for accretion.


Webs string across an ephemeral moment—

Where dust collects on the shadow of your opponent.

The mind kept as prisoner was ready to foment—

Expressed deviance and desired atonement.


Idiosyncratic, self-absorbed glamorizing a drudging life—

Superficial persona, an identity procured conceals such strife.

Wanting to burn this attic without writhe—

But the mind goes black, every night.



by Cassie Kinney