Middle Drawer

My desk has a middle drawer,
a place I stash my junk,
things of no use to me right now
but seemingly too valuable to chunk.

It’s a dirty, dingy, cluttered place
from which I usually stay far away,
a dark, dusty place where spiders
lurk awaiting unsuspecting prey.

There is a similar place deep
in the far recesses of my mind,
a place where I can repress dark thoughts,
fears and memories best left behind

But on occasion, if I’m desperate
and the need for inspiration is strong
I’ll rummage through my middle drawer
Praying that nothing goes wrong

I hold my breath that I’ll be able to find
there what I so desperately need,
but also fearing something unwanted
will return as well—a ghost or evil seed