A persistent messy room

every night 

when I write my poem, 

I see piles of

papers, 

pens and pencils,

pajama bottoms,

paperwork and bills,

bicycle lights,

bottles of ink and books,

mice and music,

a dog sniffing about,

suitcases and socks, 

scissors and snapshots,

magazines and magnets.

every night,

I am perplexed

by my persistent

procrastination.