I stand at the kitchen sink and let the water run scalding. Steam lifting from the dingy metal surface like banner clouds lifting into the early morning sky. I stand at the kitchen sink and scrub the skin on my hands, the water turning to mud in my fingers. I stand at the kitchen sink with a knife to my flesh and pull back the skin that I'm so desperately trying to escape. One by one I tear my nails from their beds. They clink as I drop them into the sink. Standing at the kitchen sink, I watch the brown water turn to blood, red running from the faucet. I dip my hands in boiling bleach. The smell reminds me of home. I stand at the kitchen sink and let the salt run down my face and burn away whatever flesh is left till I am staring at smooth white porcelain. I watch my tears run down the drain and imagine it was me. I sit in front of the sink, craddling my newly baptised sins that were never mine to bare.
Nothing will ever wash away the filth
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
I stand at the kitchen sink and let the water run scalding. Steam lifting from the dingy metal surface like banner clouds lifting into the early morning sky. I stand at the kitchen sink and scrub the skin on my hands, the water turning to mud in my fingers. I stand at the kitchen sink with a knife to my flesh and pull back the skin that I'm so desperately trying to escape. One by one I tear my nails from their beds. They clink as I drop them into the sink. Standing at the kitchen sink, I watch the brown water turn to blood, red running from the faucet. I dip my hands in boiling bleach. The smell reminds me of home. I stand at the kitchen sink and let the salt run down my face and burn away whatever flesh is left till I am staring at smooth white porcelain. I watch my tears run down the drain and imagine it was me. I sit in front of the sink, craddling my newly baptised sins that were never mine to bare.
Nothing will ever wash away the filth
Alt. Title: Attempted escape from the prison of my youth
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