You need me.
I bleed you.
When you understand the difference,
then you will understand my pain.
Hey piano player,
I can hear you playing downstairs
as I sit in my naked room
in a state of tomb gloom.
Those notes press through the walls
and like wild flowers thrusting out
of white sand they bloom
into the other side, into my empty room.
through the old crackling paint
as if it was dry dirt and they rise.
I watch that exotic rain forest of notes
rush from the walls like a glowing green candle wax waterfall,
musical leaves splash out, press against, and become crushed onto the walls,
forming a boiling fresh layer
of whispering paint.
A color invisible, unseen to the eyes,
but not the ears.
The echoing paint drips
from the sizzling wax walls,
I look to the ground,
and I hear all my silent fears drowning in those smoking puddles of sound.
Hey piano player, I love you,
you heal me, you cure me
with the screaming magic from that musical rain forest,
its flaming leaves tingle through my ears
slowly growing inside of me like a shining new organ,
it takes up its own space,
an organ of
whistling flowers, roaring branches, singing petals, and ringing leaves
all curled up around my self-mourning heart,
constantly sending the illuminating sap and thundering dew of joy
to crash through the quiet painful darkness of my soul.
A flowery organ
which teaches me how to live,
burning away my fears and drying up my tears with its fiery pulse.
An organ which helps me laugh,
which constantly pumps calmness throughout my broken system.
Yes, today I am the happy man
that smells like smiles.
Just for a while I forget those fisted hands
which taught me
that laughing was a waste of time,
just for a while.