Eraser
Squeeze. Drip. Drop. Bloody skull,
matching knuckles. Bargain turned
my hands slippery. Pianist fighting
against excruciation. I need it louder,
I need it honest. Forever is fiction.
If I could shred the yellow curtain,
and pocket those pieces, it would
do me good. I’ll need them when
the screen dulls black and white.
There are rusty skyscrapers coming.
Grayscale fog. So much change.
Stop the car. I leave the vehicle
and drink a few pretty sips. I see
pink hydrangeas, a massive clump.
Cotton candy pile at least twelve
feet tall. Ache can’t pause the calendar.
My heart can’t either. Sprinkle paint
during the process.