In reflections I pout.
As a type of religious experience
Observe this wake caress my sadness.
I find it kind of funny how
a transition of a ripple can relieve this blue.
Water has been kind to me.

And when you stare into the sink
Half filled with water
And diluted with
shaving cream
and the
exhausted manhood cut from your face.
I will not be seen.

I know you have drained it all
Into the water which I stare.
I know I mesmerize in your tide
Day in, day out.
Acceptance: a religion to me.