Den
A functional fuck-wit whose veneer is capable & organised & together
Only telling the story beneath to those closest, & always only after and sometimes never
The funny tales of lunacy, of pop-up tents & yearning for a den to hide in & indulge the obsession with no chance of observation from window cleaners, drones, scaffolders or binoculars across the street
In a home so beautifully designed to give light & airy space in such a small area, but there is not a single corner that has no window or mirror or vantage from the outside
Even frosted windows and doors around every corner offer no protection
I decide I need a four-poster bed, even though I'm really not the type
Rearranged bedroom again in a frenzy, attempting the elusive den, deliberately avoided at the last rearrangement, thinking fuck you, I'll do it so it looks good, I refuse to arrange my furniture to facilitate my addiction
It was so open & wide & it looked beautiful but offered no protection
I regretted not pandering to my need for secret corners when I moved the furniture
The wood of the antique dressing table & inherited chest of drawers, pristine through all these years, is splitting with my careless re-arranging & pushing loaded full
I moved it all around again tonight, it still is open & wide and I have no den to hide in
