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

And then everything that ever made sense crumbled and shattered. And i was left to let the water overcome me. It ran down, flowed with a constant that comforted. The moisture started breaking down that which i settled to engage myself with.

And here i am mourning something that was never quite mine in the first place.

mind games
with myself

a quivering equilibrium
of keeping myself too
busy to sink into depression
but not so overwhelmed
that the anxiety
swallows me whole

and the scales
are swinging

i am not
in control
of my own
life right now

cuticles stained green
hair grown scraggly
wrists that go
numb and tingle

i am only
twenty

too old to be carefree
and yet too young
to be callused and weathered
made miserable by time

the mind games get
violent
no referee
to call time out

my bath is still
hot but i suppose that as
with dishes it should be
emptied when no longer clear

and i am clouding
my own judgement

so the rusty red water
drains away
leaving bubbles
on my shoulders

mind games must halt
impulse control

because still the
blood remains
i can’t wash
it off me

it’s too
late

what’s wrong
with me

i am scared of
many things
the most frightening being
spiders
and admitting what i’m
really feeling

make that a fear
of myself

of the
mind games

and now what’s
done is done and
i will sleep or
lie awake in tears

when people ask what
happened to me
i tell them i was sad
and anxious and
got over it two
years ago

because not even i know
what’s wrong with me

how i’m supposed
to win the mind games

somebody help me
i need a referee

when the water rushes to fill
my ears, I hear the ever-present,
rarely-heard drum
of my own heart beating
at the edge of the water,
I can feel it around my face
as my eyes blur upwards,
here I am blinking and thinking
always thinking,
or maybe deliberating
arguing, even, with myself
pushing the thoughts of drowning
to the back of my mind again
distracted by the soft hum of it
the music I have going
on the sink, by the tub,
filled with water
filled with me
pulling my knees
to examine the bruises
scattered across my legs
a deep breath in,
hold it while pure silence
envelopes me, there
I close my eyes
let the thoughts continue
let them be
im happy