my hair surrounds me like a halo,
fingers of keratin, adrift like seaweed.
softer in the pale bathwater,
silkier in its soapy film.

my phone is on the toilet seat.
i count how pearls of water fall from the shower head,
pipes and joints loose from wear.
after 20 i let the water pool over my cheeks,
settle over my eyelids,
bubbles surging to the surface impatiently.

submerged, i let the starvation in my lungs grow urgent,
a sleepy thrill i can play with to pass the time,
as i wait for my phone to never ring.

we used to lie together in my room watching
my walls become immersed with citrus,
and how remnants of day
would soak into the earth and the walls and the houses.
i would love to watch the watered down grapefruit
undulate in the horizon amongst milky clouds.

you are newly adrift; pace has taken a liking to you.
you dance from place to place as if being chased,
but i am no different than before.
i feel like i could lie on my bed watching the sun droop
for hours.

I want to go to bed but my daughter is in the bath again; we're gonna have to pay on a meter soon, (it seems it's a privilege not a right), so I wonder how much all those drops will cost, I'll just have to cough up, baths are an essential of a girl's life and I couldn't stand the whining if I said it's showers from now on; I don't get baths, immersed in hot water, gradually turning cold, swimming in all your own sweat, (human soup), "They help you relax" she says, RELAX! she's not the one paying the bills, stressing over where the next meal is coming from; all I'd think of is the things I could be doing instead of wallowing, old people die in baths, some even drown in them, some husbands take a bath with an electrical appliance (plugged in, courtesy of the wife), John Haigh dissolved his victims in the bath in sulphuric acid, showers every time for me, wash away the dirt down the drain, with all the stress of the day; bath bombs, what's that about, not some sort of terrorist threat, it's smelly stuff that sort of explodes when put in water, impregnating the skin with smells and potions, (human potpourri), I just want to go to bed, I'm tired and have work tomorrow, what the **** does she do in there for hours on end.

And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.

I bathe in my past mistakes to remind myself that they are there.
    
            - The wine is hard to wash off my skin.

sometimes i want
my bath to eat me

it's not that
i want to drown
in its water

i want my bathtub
to swallow me whole

i want to feel
the warm water
cascade around my body
as i'm pulled into
unknown depths

never to return
without a trace
that i was ever
here

Please give  a  kiss
on  Instagram.


Please  do  not
give  advice on
my  single  status
by   comparing  lonely
white  female pigs.

Please  show
me  a ***** pond
to  bath
under  that  pond
in  Pinterest  a  glass
room  should come
the  way   in  where
you  can  take another
bath   to heal  my  mind-sound bath.

when you’re going solely off of what feels right, it’s pretty easy to be swayed when you ate bad chicken or take a bubble bath or the streets look friendly but so does the underside of my comforter so you tell me how am i supposed to know?

You draw a weapon of your own legacy
To destroy your enemy
The brothers you celebrate with
are all dead
Did you think we could get away without any bloodshed?

We are here now, enjoying the aftermath
Ever wondered the causes of the wrath?
Succumb the effect of the vice
And war, war is not for the wise