Glaring light
and white
bathtubs.
Steam and
high pitched
melodies.
Running water
spreading warmth
spreading legs.
Silky cloths
for the freshly
bathed human.
Confusion and
worried faces
all washed away
by lukewarm
bathtub water.

I learnt
Every cell in your body
Is replaced
After
S E V E N years

It relieved me
it satisfied me
to know
In S E V E N years
My body
will be
Washed
from your
T O U C H.

Syllables collect like vacant shells
           on a shore of nonconformity.

Willing the thoughts now washing up
             to be converged vividly.


     We gaze at many horizons,
collecting upon us, are we to be
                               washed away...

Or will our reflections be that
       which we swim within,
               be that which we heed in word..

A beautiful spring day
Happened a fallen falcon
Left in the wind
To rot
And with it came
The forgotten embers of a
White-washed lion
Ready, waiting, preying
To pounce.

Mono tone
Repeated Humm
Western on the screen
Orchestral
this place is
full of time
so many stories
washed away
by the same machine
over and
over
and over
It’s amazing to me
The filth in
A place of cleansing

There was a void.
Then there was light.
There was his voice.
His touch which made me quiver.
His fragrance that lingered
Like the dew every morning
Like the dreams that kept coming back
Like the waves that washed away sandcastles
Like the wind which bent the daffodils on the sidewalk
Like a phone that kept ringing.
Like the letters left unanswered.
The birthdays that kept coming.
His voice rang in my head.
Like a beautiful symphony that would be the end of me if it stopped.

A thousand pictures lying on the floor
Do I even recognize us anymore?

Like seasons that come one after the next
Like the unassuming traffic i see through the window of a hotel
In an unknown town
On an unknown date
The calendar has failed me

I need to stop tasting you on my tongue
Like a pill I can't swallow
Like a high I can't get
Like a breakfast in a picturesque town, left unfinished
Like words of a foreign language I can't seem to pronounce correctly.

Every time I close my eyes, I think I forget.
And then there is a void.

I washed her
from my pillow-slips.

In a white plastic bucket
I soaked away her body's breath,
and with bleach removed
the evidence she had  left.

We snatched the time
to make our marks
with sweat and
firm commitments.

The stains on stolen sheets
proved easier to erase
than those she ground into
the fabric of my room,

I watched as
traces of our time
together
turned the water dark.

Through turmoil and tragedy
I am at peace
I float in a cleansing sea of crystal
Fed by the River
Which flows from the Bema Seat
I am washed
Red
The color of life
The color of death to myself
And life
I am at peace