Rainbows for the hopeless part 1

The cleaner

The cleaner is at work scrubbing hard
His hand is light; his brush is like the wind.
He is scrubbing the blood with his scrubbing brush
He whistles in the basement like a dwarf

The whole day is crisscrossed by cleaners
When the weather is right they start their work
Folding the flesh into neat piles of laundry
Trying hard to remove the stain from the floor

Now, you want them to clean you up
So you sit waiting in the old tin bath by the fire
For their cleansing hands of flame

You don’t escape from it

You don’t escape from it
It’s under your skin all the time
It’s shot into your eyes like sharp harpoons

It’s got a long life; it will only die if you die
So when they send you the summons
Oh man, it’s a joke

When the ice caps have finally melted
Hey will find him – like a golden idol
A 50 ft. tall ancient man roaring with laughter

But you can’t run away from him, anyway
He’s been in you for years somehow
Buried deep like a surgical staple
Keeping your surgery together

You could go to sleep for a thousand years

You could go to sleep for a thousand years
– Or, you could run away forever.

If you tried to undo the thread of sleep
You would unwind like a ball of wool.
But instead, you run away with the key
To everything you see and touch

Then in the street lamps at night!
You study your veins in the mirror glass
How can you separate them one from the other
How can you unwind them – you can’t!

There are invisible lies

There are invisible lies; as translucent as glass following you everywhere with their sticky-note sidekicks
that super-glue themselves into your hair

They are your favourite App of red meat hate as nasty as cannibals crap, anyone can download-apply them, then they fly away like guilty bats.

Lies – once let lose they are like dry skin on your shin applied like a wipe by sensitive dislike and they let their poison sink in.

You’ll never be you and not even the truth can win.

Not even an invoice can buy back what they take and reverse the ruined stone. You’ll walk alone with growing lies sticking to the bone.

My eyelids close shut

My eyelids close shut – now, what have I caught?
The rusty trap has been set off …
I see a rodent’s tail inside whipping about
Hanging down my throat

I see your wooden brown horse statue
That stands on its hind legs beside the open door
Now I see your blue-patch by the dark underground station
Where you stand to hand out the free magazines

The black phone begins ringing …
I see the silver moon in its musical phrases
Crossing the horizon – now I open my eyes again
And I have become the giant who fell asleep in a pond

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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