Witness me...
Courage in a handful of kindness
Professed soap, a hope sharing in all anarchy?
Has the sense to let a wish bless...

Privilege is my game
Tows of resolve
With anecdote to serve same
Adding but its name, a risen haunt...

Causes control themselves...
Curious was a furious jewel...
Golden sighs of worth, have what delves...
Reasons share, the past; long before a hell...

What, was a quiet existence?
For the rest, of a sojourn...
That is the limit, to unison; amends
Reaching for sincerity, the wish to earn...

Arriving at life's purpose
Saving ideology from proper humanity
Sat in the name, of seldom become a host
Today is more, than a wonder declaring a vanity...

Catch a word in service
Secrets of vows, autonomy
Add seldom, for a world's meant gird
See the rainbow, in the sky, want need

Wasn't never...?
Solitude in the audacity
Of a sun's ray, a rancor
For a lived same, that said affinity?

Simple nativity
Honor and homage
With a kiss, stomached liberty
Has come and gone, with silences wages

Grown to the point
Poise is an outward favor
Lime, flowers, and the winds winding joy
Has the time, to understand a wishes flavor

Soap, with your name, on it
Hadding the excess, the language
Of superiority, is worth the wit?
Like lips of creation, heiring works of times entourage...

The tow of gifts, to youth:
Have a questioning monster...?
A hap of ability, to venture a round eye could
Make your mark in society, with a teeming occur?

What has a luckier few, than the future due?
Simple news and direction to verify, the idea's we pace
Just a calling hour, that liked the doting, that amazed soon...
To see the risks involved, a hardy scope of a wish that says:

Courage and wisdom, in the moments of sojourn
Has the daunting task of hell, for presence first?
Than the sincerity of atmospheres to gain, and again...
The role of viciousness, to look upon a cause before it gets worse?

Shame you have to go, but a better chance sits with you...
Can the vice of notorious visions, of quiet and might
Taken to a decency for a loosened, question's of audacity anew
That has the intuition and tooth, to tell a world to see it, in new light:

Stepping forward, with succor to meagerly meet
Shares of destiny; begin to let more, like a rage was...
The court and the offhand quarter given to a patience to seat
At uniqueness's worth, to which we know your smile even, does...

Life, to wager, does life know when to quit?
Salt and harmony, now the victor of such a race
Like a harrowing care, thrown to a lion with a moment to tell it
Reaching for a song, do you notice the music of showers to face?

I got this new hand soap, called “Frosted Coconut Snowball.”
It's the dreamiest scent ever.

When I’d unpacked (from Spring break) and had everything in place,
I dragged Andy and Leong into my bathroom. Wash your hands,” I suggested, holding up the soap dispenser and turning on the tap.

“Ok," Leong said, offering her upturned hands for soaping.
“Sure,” Andy said, assenting with his hands as well.

I pumped out a generous, foaming squirt for each of them.
Leong held the foam up to smell. “Oh, my GOD,” She moaned, “is this edible?
I shook my head no.

Andy sampled his as well, “Nice!” he agreed. Which is volumes from a guy.

“I fell in love with it.” I declared, adding, “You know, I never used to wash my hands before - now, it’s practically a habit.”
Andy chuckled.

“Good to know,” Leong said, before she began slowly inhaling the fragrance off her now-dry hands.

Lions of worth
Sheer actual and letting a moon...
Save this last dance for danger
Creation and beckoning silence, come too soon

Throne of sense, a dissuading knot
Persuaded to live in the opus, the chastity
Of courtesy's phantom, a wisdom caught
A wisdom capable of the roses of vanity...

Vantage one (soliloquy)
Threats of privilege, share the land
Sour or dour, the notion to quell, is heed
Stricken with the mores of wishes, the tongue to wonder

Vantage two (espousal)
Worlds of visit, vicinity, and vagueness
Together for a question, in the form of wealth
We see your tomorrow, for today in a mirrors bless...

Vantage three (fulfilment)
Sweeter as us, than you have a right to be
The tongue of vice, a victory of spirits, and solace or lament
Has the voice of harmony, like the very light we seem to eat

Vantage four (escapism)
The terror of repose, that has been divined
Sovereign to forces, with a greater eye, than the silence of despotism
Has reached the known, the curiosity of a simple sigh...

Sign's of the times
Hatred is our reward, no fool without a yesterday
That has, become a terror with us, the saviors of lives
With a solitude we offer is confusion, and the mercy of angels, which may...

It started when people stopped bathing
Or showering.

Every day before they went to work or after their 5 mile run.  People just stopped stepping into their tubs
Or showers
To turn the faucet handles that activated
Cold and hot water to fall from the plumbing.

They gradually
Lost interest in hygiene. Personal cleanliness was ghosted.

Everything else mattered to them,  until it didn't.  Getting their kids to school on time mattered, finishing the work project by deadline mattered, visiting relatives in Montana mattered, driving to the store for groceries mattered, until it didn't. Simply ceasing soap and water on flesh.

They just stopped bathing. It's not that they were afraid of water. If near the ocean they would still run and swim in the waves,
Or jump into the pool at the Hilton. No they weren't afraid of water.
It was something else
So slow
And insidious that it was hardly noticed at first.

The domesticated animals picked up on the phenomena first.
They became anxious. They scurried, tried vocalizing. They sensed a lack of intention from their care givers. They sensed a lack of worthiness inside of their humans. The animals began to wonder about their own well being.
What was their future?

Once you start with a variation from normal,  from routine,  from tradition,  the pendulum swings.
The people didn't realize what was happening. Then it slowly dawned on them over time.
They didn't feel needed.
But kept it a secret. The secret necrosed from the inside
Out. They forgot that connecting to one another
Was vital to survival. Their silence could be deadly.

i smell it on my hands, a smell,
like clothes maybe.
or a house i once belonged in.
long gone and fixed up.
i know i know it. maybe i’m insane.
maybe i just haven’t used the downstairs bathroom in a while.
it makes me nostalgic. i don’t know why.
i don’t know how i know it and it’s driving me up the blue painted walls.
i will tear down the coats and smash the mirror to know how i know this smell.
it smells like old love that i ache to forget.
people i once knew.
people i once loved before they shed their skins,
and i wore them as a scarf all winter.
i flick the lock,
the metal lock,
and it washes away the smell.
it is polluted with that copper penny tinge.
so i hold the lock with my sleeve now.

You've heard of a 'heart of glass'.
Well, mine is made of soap.
Careless hands can gut it.
Your fingernails will cut it.
You lay upon me all your grimy guilt,
Then leave me here, unrinsed, with all your filth.
I numb 99% of my own pain,
So the 1% can come eat me up again.
I'll cover you, My Dear, in soft, safe bubbles;
Neglect my own, but listen to your troubles.