steeped my
skin in ginger
a bathtub brew and
sweaty forehead

but i was
the teabag.

when i shut
my eyes
all i could see
was red lines

rubbing where
they should be
remembering
squinting my eyes
in main street sun
thighs burning

(dear goodness
i don't know how
i ended up here
again after so long)

opened my eyes
saw my wrists

white and
whiter scarred
but i always
picture them as
red and
redder slit.

gasping for hot
and humid air
motivation is
strangely illusive
but visualization
forever inclusive.

i'm boiling alive
or bathing to die
in scalding bathrooms
of appalling apathy.