Poem: Drainage – 12/07/20

Strangely exhausted,
an afternoon, heavily slept,
too much, too much,
ill memories draining,
they won’t rise delicately,
rather seep down below the mattress,
will not gently fly away.

A drainage system
below the surface
of a city, a being,
more than four times hastily gone mad,
residual pain wafting from
the wide walkway pipes,
potent,
uncleanly,
needing purification:
the sensations do not need resurfacing.

But a town mayor deems it so,
right and correct to flush this town of
mental muck
though the waterways will never
flow with pure, clean goodness,
it doesn’t hurt to try, though, does it.

Her drip,
drip draining like a cannula,
a personal IV,
feeding pain-controlling and cleansing
elements to this human city, this sleeping being,
in an instant there is a rush of 
blue then red dyed magic entering into her veins,
her memories become less aching,
less hounding,
can the system be cleansed,
and her self still remain saved?

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Semevent from Pixabay

Return to All Posts

Home

Join me also at:

YouTube

SoundCloud

6 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s