The problem with a temperature wash, even mild,
is how easily the glass begins to mist.
Cramped as you are in your sloppy steamy hell,
between each cycle a rub you cant resist.

To see who sees, or if anyone sees at all,
through the stinging suds, your bloodshot eyes can only wince.
For when you choose to hide, and in such a space reside,
  unseen you should expect at least a rinse!



Plain sight you thought! While the drum begins to fill,
as your shiny home now turns to bubbles thick.
You crawled in as you do, and with the door just pulled it to,
what you didn’t expect was whites and a heavy click!

You pathetically stare at the cupboards from your hell,
all the choices from the time that you were biding.
And as the drum begins to turn, its only then you finally learn,
to not expect that much, when you’ve become this good at hiding.