My Own Private Beach Resort
You know, I haven't spent much time letting things go. When compared to how much I've accumulated I've got a room I've made into my own beach resort and then I've got a room in which I empty my shoes of the sand I was using to make a room into my own private beach resort. Now that's just a metaphor. Or wishful thinking. A metawish.
And I don't want you to think that I have a lot of stuff, physically, I don't. I just acquired pillows last week. No, inside I've acquired a lot. Intrinsically I'm a hoarder. I've got a room full of sand and thought to myself, "I'm gonna make my own private beach resort room" and after I was finished I saw I still had a room full of sand. Yes some of it was from what I've emptied from my shoes, but a lot of it was just left over.
So now I've got this awesome room that I can go to inside that reminds me of a beach, and I really want to relax in it but every time I do I keep thinking about the room next door. Inside the same house. Probably has about close to the same amount of sand in it, but it's just a dirty room. Extra sand I don't know what to do with.
My Adult Life
I sold out just a little to keep a little. I wrote my adventurous spirit down in passion and tore the paper up and distributed it around town. I called it my heart and asked for it to keep beating.
This is my story and I've distributed to all corners of my fishbowl.
I was never your sweet. I was your bitter. I was your absolute. But I was never absolute about anything. Which made me really bad at my job.
I was never your love. Just a placebo. I was your pill shaped candy. Only here to make you forget. If only for a second. About decisions you don't want to make.
I was never your mountain. I was your excuse not to climb. I was your plateau. Ignoring every sign I was holding you back.
I was never a shoulder to cry on. I was your shame. The reason you cried. I was the side of you that made you feel weak. Swearing you'd never let anyone see you like this.
My whole adult life I wrote songs about the last one with hopes of the next one. Now I write songs about my adult life. I distributed my story to all corners of my fish bowl.
About Iowa Writes
Since 2006, Iowa Writes has featured the work of Iowa-identified writers (whether they have Iowa roots or live here now) and work published by Iowa journals and publishers on The Daily Palette. Iowa Writes features poetry, fiction, or nonfiction twice a week on the Palette.
In November of 2008, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated Iowa City, Iowa, the world's third City of Literature, making the community part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network.
Iowa City has joined Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia as UNESCO Cities of Literature.
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Picking up a pen and a drawing book, Sean started pursuing writing and art when he was a freshman in high school. . . . His move from California had filled him with angsty hormones . . . he found writing was an excellent cathartic hobby. . . . In 2010 he met Christian Roth and Nick Lapointe at a Nick Lapointe Show . . . and was invited to Voicebox, where he co-Emceed with Brandon Dean for about a year. After a few years hiatus, he returned to emcee Voicebox in 2014 and is still currently rocking the mic in between poets with his honest and unabashed awkwardness towards himself.