In cluttered minds all full of dust
the sheaves of senses lost are found
rolled up with frank denials thick
they lay upon forgotten floors.
In closets that have not seen light
for many days and many nights,
the guilt lies thick and deep and wide
and coats each thought with dirty slime.
It slithers darkly through the grime
of sins pre-paid to Father Time
repressed behind dark oaken doors
collected dark impulsive spores.
They lay on dingy knick knack boards
all locked away in filthy corners
living on in memory's horrors.
A closet full of tight held secrets
dark hopes and wishes sadly precious.

Oh, if a light could stream through walls
built high by fear of revealed all
and banish guilt and sins denials,
then maybe clean and sober thoughts
could harbor hopes we once forgot