Chores

I need a jug, a bucket or cradle

To fill with something of liquid-inhale

If it leaks and floods onto the carpet

The plants on my balcony can’t be watered

I need a glass, a bottle or barrel

To fill with something of liquid-inhale

Strong, not sweet, without lime or soda

To keep at bay monsters at midnight-hours

I need a box, a carton or crate

To store away objects no longer useful

Like old envelopes and rusty old keys

And that black and white shirt that’ll never fit me

I need a capsule, a drug or a cure

To store away objects no longer useful

Like thoughts, memories and old recollections

That fight me from inside a mind so blameful

I need a dust-cloth, a sweeper or broom

To clean up the mud stains I dragged in the room

When picking you flowers yellow and pink

Before end of season they’ll no longer bloom

I need a sponge, some tissues, a swab

To clean up the blood-stains I dragged down the stairs

When realizing time has forced me to stop

Blaming and framing myself with a crop

I need to behave

To complete my chores

I need to behave

In this nightmare of heartsore