What I Must(y) Have In My Life
Blooming from life memorabilia in cardboard boxes,
smelling like the crusting over of time -
the afterimage of the past with all of its complementary hues -
coloring lower room crevices from the underlinings of my heart to my soul
(to my basement to my garage),
or the parchment cracks of
ancient scrolls bottled and sent out to sea, to a deserted island.
Where a castaway might crack open the cork, letting the contents spill over like wine -
rich and providing a reason for living,
For reflecting (for having a nose).
And this almighty thing I can continue on discoursing
for days,
praising, loving, praying over.
Because it fills my daily routine with wild pleasure(-able scents) -
when I can achieve it.
While at times rare and probably would be one of the Earth’s perfect air freshn- uh creations
Some humans, in their erroneous ways, try to rid of it.
They outline processes for denying such a healthy substance like self-help books,
like a person trying to rid oneself of his or her introvertedness.
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“First identify the source of the musty smell.
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Remove wet material and damaged materials.
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Clean the area of all mold spores.
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Now deodorize and ventilate the area.
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Be sure to get rid of the source of the dampness.
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Temperature control.
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Humidity control.
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Ventilation control.”
Musty smells are to die for.
Let’s just be forreal for a second.
Think of it:
synthetic must pressed into wax candles and tea bags,
pumped into bedrooms or through portable heaters,
squeezed into perfume encasings, hair solutions, fabric softener flavors
molded into soapbars to fill pores like attic closets so a person
feels squeaky clean and old *cough* I mean new.
New inventions so I can stop hyperventilating in my basement,
trying to eat a smell with fat breaths.
Like a sponge
filter-feeding
So others quickly point to love, friendship, language, mothers and fathers,
diversity, self-expression - their favorite necklace with a family crest
But must:
It’s what I must(y) have in my life.