I step
Slowly,
Gracefully,
Through my
Glassy shower doors
Quickly turning the taps
On to shivering cold,
Then scorching, shivering Cold,
Then scorching,
Drowning me in endlessly sprinkling cycles.

I sit at the bottom of my shower
Letting tears stream stolid paths from my eyes

Because I know the shower’s tears will outdo mine.
It’s nice to feel compassion as I cry.

All my hatred, tears, self-doubt, they’re all washed
Down the drain under my shower’s faithful spray,
Swishing over me and covering my body with my shower’s own
Salty tears.

06/10/2004

Posted on 08/08/2004
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