Wednesday, April 12, 2006


laying in the little pools collected at the bottom of the tub
wondering if I bleed too much
cause every time I get in,
really get myself wet and burning
it’s too much
and my head spins
and I falter and sway
and my words are far off dancing foolish children
while the basin and the spigot are drawing closer
and before I fall, I’m wondering if I’ve spoken too much
without breathing in-between words
maybe that’s why I can’t get clean without bleeding
maybe I’m to lose my head
maybe my face likes it’s porcelain friend
maybe I’ll get up
and vomit
and realize
that I left my towel on the livingroom couch
and in a haze,
I open the door and walk out
and clean
with a little stream of blood
trickling down my cheek

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