Hand Soap

A snippet of a worldview through a paranoia attack.

I saw omens in the hand soap today.

My sister’s been replaced by a Something Else,
And I saw omens in the hand soap today.

My sister is good and sweet and so is the Something Else,
Which is why my chest starts folding
Origami-style
When I see it hold and coo over her baby.
If it is a baby anymore.
If he’s also a Something Else now then I suppose it’s too late.
I’ll miss her, though,
And him,
Now that my sister’s been replaced by a Something Else.
I know it’s true. After all,
I’ve seen it in the omens in the hand soap.

It’s been a bad week all around, but today
My bus app told me to kill myself,
My sister got replaced by a Something Else,
And I saw omens in the hand soap.

When you work late
(Impromptu call centre therapist for
Middle aged, middle management men,
Job description: Verbal Punching Bag)
It’s just quite unfair to turn on the app
When clear as day, the 4 letter activation code
(After expiry date, location, ticket type)
Tells you to JUMP.
It creases your heart up,
Origami-style,
Scored at the edges with blunt scissors,
To keep the folds red-hot tight
Inside a ribcage five sizes too small.
And as my lungs fizzle and pop,
Guy Fawkes-style,
I have to keep silent so no one knows
That my bus app told me to kill myself,
That my sister got replaced by a Something Else,
And that I saw omens in the hand soap.

It’s reasonable to feel a little stressed today.
After all,
My skin has bubbled over,
My bus app told me to kill myself,
My sister got replaced by a Something Else,
And I saw omens in the hand soap.

Now, I know sunburn.
Sunburn is red-hot tight,
Peeling creases,
Candy cane barbershop stripes over
Freckles that a lover would compare to galaxies.
Instead my arm is toad warts,
Blister spheres, air bubbles on the surface,
Marrow risen up through bone,
Fizzled and popped.
Because obviously (and quite clearly)
My arm is melting now.
There’s nothing for it. I’ve got poison seeping
Through my pores.
It’s not sunburn, it’s something sinister.
My skin has bubbled over,
My bus app told me to kill myself,
My sister got replaced by a Something Else,
And I keep seeing omens in the hand soap.

When pastel pink fortresses stand guard,
Castles either side of the cold running moats,
Labelled with names like Peony Infusion,
Then those are good days.
I can scrub the worms away from where they fester
In my palms, nails, wrists.
But today the hand soap was
Azure and
Acrylic and
Acidic and
Anti-bacterial Tesco Value blue stains on the ceramic.
It has no sweet smell like Peony Infusion and so that means that
(Clearly, obviously)
I’m going to die today.
Because the hand soap at work is blue and because
My skin has bubbled over and because
My bus app told me to kill myself and because
My sister got replaced by a Something Else and because
I’ve seen it in the omens in the hand soap.