I woke up covered in my own blood,

Metaphorically drowning.

I was late and he was sleeping,

“What’s that on your hands?”

“Disbelief”, I said,

Disbelief in your not-knowing.

Has it passed?

Has it passed?

Has it passed?

I think that was it.

Was that it?

Everyone knows,

I said it so plainly un-plain.

Social pariah, more evil than anyone knows,

More covered in blood now,

than I was before I came.

Although my skin now clean and pale,

My insides are flooding,

like unwelcome saturated riverbanks,

when there has been too much rain.

My mind has drowned.

More covered now, than ever before.

It won’t ever wash off.