I learned the difference
Between grime
And dirt,
At a very young age.
That they can be different
Yet look the same under the fingernails
Of a child.
I hid them,
Bit them,
For I knew what would come if I was not neat.

Disapproving glances at my mother,
How dare she raise such an animal.
Disappointing looks at me,
I never could scrub my nails enough
For the clean to stain.

*******
Mentioning
My
Room
I throw the clothes one by one
into the gloom of the
chest of
drawers
Allowing myself only a pause
to gather a little claw of rage again to fold
and hold
Resolve

Stop talking about my room
Consider this topic
closed

Just how my door will be
In future.

You washed me in your ****** rain
so soaked into my core
taking all the ****** parts
and sewing up the place they tore

Now all I need is crystal clear
the daily rain of words
to keep me clean
and wash the skin
that's healing cold and sheer

Smells like clean clothes
it's always pleasant
at the laundromat
down the street from
my apartment.

The washer and dryer
are currently broken
looks like some teenager
didn't know what they were doing
as the washer is filled with water
and their clothes remain
inside dwelling to smell
of mildew.

The dryer looks like an antique
because it is the slime green of the 70's
mismatched to it's wifley counterpart
that is stainless steel sparkles
so I assume the dryers death
is not the fault of our fresh water culprit
but electrical problems brought on
from existing forever.

They broke a few months ago
and I've never gone to check
if they were brought back to life
as I've found myself
intoxicated with the laundromat.

It's the mechanical hums
an orchestra of ball barrings
with clothes tumbling
through their fabric softeners
to become fresh gentle cottons
the smell of Hugs
is the aroma of heaven.

Cleanliness is something that you learn
when your mom washes your hair and
reminds you to brush your teeth before bed.
It isn't something you think about,
it's something you do out of habit.
Cleanliness is something you memorize,
you don't associate it with someone's ****** history
until their history writes itself into your present and future.
It receives a new meaning
once you wash your hair and brush your teeth
and you somehow still don't feel clean.

Ink stains, and wire frames. Shadows dance in my brain. Cotten cashes in my teeth, the demon breath still stinks within.
A single drop for every sin. In the bile reflecting pool, made up of a broken mans drool. Is what is left of what I was before I took the demon buzz.

No matter how hard I scrub
I will never be clean.

If only the rain
could cleanse
my pain.

Wash away
the tears from
my face and heart.

The bruises
and blood
that stained me from the start.