I shall have a long, luxurious bath.

I will fill my tub with self-pity.
I shall scrub my back with regret.
I will wash my hands with ignorance.
I shall clean my hair with lost love.
I will wallow in my very own despair.

I shall have a long, luxurious bath...

The water can heal you, if you let yourself

                                                     submerge.

The chilly fingers of the melting ice caps

will engulf you

making you feel very small

and very afraid

but then

when you erupt from the depth of self healing

you will feel the warm tendrils of the sun-rays

curling over and caressing your skin.

And everything

will

be okay

once again.

I awoke with fatigue and pain,
but my soul lifts with renewed hope
as Love floods my heart, cleansing it

I lay in the bathtub soaking
wet with water running
around my silhouette.  Shaking
as the washcloth smeared regrets
over my skin. The bubbles
give my sins a scent.

As I vent I leave the shower
running so my sobs
are the only thing drowning.
The constant tapping on my face
keeps me awake as I sink into
the various stews my mind creates.

Weights are lifted with pruning. Peeling
of dead skin keeps me from
reeling into depression. There is a harmonic
progression between the faucet and my face,
the scrubbing and my disgrace, the steam and
my own embrace.

I need this state. The decompression
from being bottled up, like a coke, with a smile
is worthwhile. It teaches me
that the expression of  weakness
is key in the building of a better Timothy.

My mind is filled
Just dirt and grime
The only thing to cleanse
Is the art of the rhyme