sticky tape

The door closed. Shut, slammed, done.
Masking tape covers the cracks, do not listen, shh shh cover your ears.
Don’t peek, the door is closed.
The liquid seeps underneath, blue and clear, warm with love.
Quickly, grab a papertowel, clean.
Who dares to let warm love tarnish my polished floor? Scrub, wipe, mop.
Scratch, scratch until all is gone.
Is the rust in my cut? The fear of the needle to follow.
Will it infect? Like it infected my mind.
My mind is overrun now by all that is behind that closed.
The opinions of others, my own preconception, the path behind, the road in front.
The sculpter’s hands that have formed the mould.
Maybe there’s a hammer in the drawer beside my closed door.
Maybe there’s a knife.
I will tape the drawer shut as well.

sticky tape

fillette

Joined December 2007

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infected

Artwork Comments

  • Jonathan Dobson
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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