washday

sunday 26th august @ 01:26

i wash my skin with soapy water. scrub the surfaces of my rigid torso with too long nails. the rise of lather oozes through my fingers and it's pungent scent stings my tongue. i let clear water fall around me until i am ready to release these thoughts and let them ease away with the heat and the grime. then with hands in my hair, feeling for something to hold on to, they leave me. one at a time, a trail of my destructions that channel away and spiral to the gutter where they are welcomed. where they can harm me no more.