Among My Auctioneers

eBay once sold me such glories— I placed my bids without care; My house has only three stories And I need to sit down somewhere: There’s no room left for me— No floor space do I see; I live in sad debris From all my auctioneers; I’m making quite a fuss— My postman wears a truss; You ought to hear him cuss At all my auctioneers; It’s anybody’s guess What lies within this mess; I sure could do with less But I’m a major pack rat; Once sunlight filled this room But now the spreading gloom Looks just like King Tut’s tomb Thanks to my auctioneers. I miss my wide-open spaces— Tunnels and paths now hold sway; But I just keep stacking purchases That may fall upon me someday; With junk my home is rife— It’s not an easy life; Can’t even find my wife Among my Souvenirs; Books spill out on the floor— And other things galore— And I’m still buying more From all my auctioneers; I own a complete set Of all there is to get; If I don’t own it yet Then it’s not worth having; That I must win each lot Even with all I’ve got Is just a fiendish plot Among my auctioneers.