Your books are in alphabetical order
but still look charmingly disorganized,
a stereo sits atop a stack of comic books, teetering off the edge
You don't bother to fix it, music pounds out so loud we can't hear the song,
only the beat, the beat, the beat
you've neatly stacked CDs next to it,
all the labels facing out,
all your accomplishments are pinned to the side,
a bright blue mask with feathers and
intricate light silver designs
perches on top of it all, contemplating the plunge onto your colorful rug
it's as if a banner hangs above,
screaming your name,
reading your bookshelf,
is so much easier
that reading your eyes.