"showerhead" poems
Ode to the shower head, so sparkly and fair
Whose warm words seep through her mouth
To encompass my heart and hair
Such unconditional love and caring leaves her lips
I cannot help extend my arm
Just to feel the drips
But if I in her chamber choose to prolong my stay
Icy reproving hits my spine casting me away
Stinging chemicals blind me as I struggle to the door
Having already decided to soon come back for more
Ode to the shower head, losing sleep but it seems
The memories of your embrace are better than my dreams
You wake me in the morning and comfort me at night
Clear my thought and always, help me see the light
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
dearest moenhead,
i am so deeply relieved that you are here for me
when I walk in the door
silently waiting to comfort me after a long day.
I look up at your beautiful head,
yes, I have neglected you~ there is rust collecting in your pores,
and tears welling up in your sparkling grey eyes
I wonder how long you have been going on like this?
Oh come now. Don't be cold. I'm home!
We can be together, right?
I turn up the heat
no wasting time
I turn you on, warm you up,
and step into your powerful flow of pure joy...
You shower me with kindness, gently massaging
away my every ache,
all the day's tension down the drain
oh you are the best~
under your washful forgiving eyes,
freed from from the distraction of self awareness,
lost in the luxury of suds and pelting pleasure,
i seem to melt into the cheap fiberglass casing.
but you...
you transform ordinary water into liquid gold and
make this place feel more like a resort
taking me away to places no Calgon bath could ever dream of
oh showerhead,
I can barely stand to be out from under your steaming streams~
your warming current of comfort
washing all the days crud off of me
making me feel clean, energized, vibrant and youthful again
ready to face the world or my dreams.
Showerhead,
sediment notwithstanding,
I am happiest when I am with you.
I am a better person.
you make me feel alive again,
and though I have tried to articulate this into meaningful words,
words are unable to express my gratitude, for alas,
you can never know what you mean to me.
Just know that you are the most wonderful and awesome shower i have ever had,
there is none like you.
from the bottom of my sole,
thank you. All my love,
Geegirl
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Look!
I'm super ******* clean!
I stepped into the falling water
and inched my way toward total
submersion. It was steaming hot
and my skin had yet to acclimate.
Upon said acclimation I lathered
up a palmful of smell-good gel
and got to work on my armpits
and my torso. I washed my way
down to my belly button and then
I retrieved another handful of body
wash. As I worked it into my hair
then my beard, and I used the excess
suds to scrub my **** and my nuts.
From there I covered my thighs and
worked down my legs. I turned away
from the showerhead and scrubbed
my ******* clean with one more dollop
of Old Spice. I stepped into the burning
streams of water and rid myself of the
day's sweat and grime in one big,
dark puddle swirling down the drain.
I took one more dab of soap and
worked it into a foam.
But I hesitated before I washed my face,
because I realized that I had just
*scrubbed my *******
with the same hands I use to
*wash my ******* face** with.*
But I then sighed and did it anyway.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
you're screaming at me--"b-b-b-b-b-b-o-n-e-s"
death rattle of the century
now the floor, now the eyes in the window, now the fridge door
swung open
gateway to paradise
b-b-b-b-b-b-o-n-e-s
******* magnum opus
stutter-screech
blood blood blood in the streets
(blood blood blood in your teeth,
in your sheets
******* christ, i want to **** you")
m-m-m-m-m-m-a-r-t-y-r complex
you're cruel.
now the casket wide open,
now the eyes in the windows,
now the showerhead, now you,
framed portrait, you,
"this isnt over,"
you, buzzing in my skull
(b-b-b-b-b-b-o-n-e-s)
quiet down.
wasp nest lying at your feet
bug, holy thing, germ
("this, this, this")
now the bed, now the covers thrown back,
now an empty casket.
theres no grace in slaughterhouses
no sweetness on the tip of a dead man's tongue--
******* death of princes, i could
devour you whole, i could
eat the oyster-world raw.
b-b-b-b-b-b-o-n-e-s
and a note attached to a javelin.
(and they'll say, "welcome to the end of the world")
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
as you walked away, in time
with the settling flakes
your shadow grew small enough to fit
inside a snow-globe,
and so he kept you there
in his display case.
he wore your absence on his face
vacant like a handwritten abcess,
when he shook his head, there were
parts of you that settled behind his eyes
and he looked like a blind man,
lost in his own house.
there was fear tucked into his lips.
what didn’t turn white turned red
what didn’t bleed, break or bruise
gave up on the universe entirely
and dissolved into molecule,
he was nothing without you.
his mouth was an empty room.
he shut us out like a shadow
the light was kept away
and on the last day
that we still knew him,
we found icicles under his bed,
the showerhead frosted shut,
his room smelled like shivers
and dust.
*every inch of his heart was silent
every song on his skin was burnt*
we buried him in the sun
it was the only thing we had left
to give.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
Twenty minutes, lost.
I though I had been under my steadily flowing deity for hours. I thought I had had a spiritual experience lasting longer than Genesis.
But it was only twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes
Of standing naked under falling water, feeling soap suds and scratchy cleansers and sharp tangles
Cleaning my skin and my soul of my physical reminder of my connection to the river
To the world
Thinking only flesh and water, flesh and water.
It was the mantra in my head.
We are all just flesh and water.
I was ripping through the harsh curls of my hair thinking flesh and water
Flesh and water.
I caressed my goddess, my god, my spirit, nature’s spirit
When I caressed the showerhead.
I saw it clean me of the plankton of the natural water and replace it with synthetic chemicals
To keep me sanitary and acceptable.
Twenty minutes.
It felt like that was how long it took for the blade to run across my skin, my wet-and-dry-sand skin. Twenty minutes running up from the product of the hills to the home of my womanhood.
I noticed how the man-made razor matched a section of veins on my wrist.
Twenty minutes.
In twenty minutes that were actually twenty lifetimes I became Pocahontas, daughter of Earth and sister of water.
I felt my connection to what sustains me and it changed me.
How did twenty minutes seem so long
Under the florescent lights?
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
Crash
Over me
This wave of emotions
Comes to crash
Over me
Comes to drown me in tears and screams
And the fear of insanity
*All around me the people, they scurry
All around me, they move around me
They might as well go right through me
I’m not here, don’t you know?
I don’t exist, don’t you know?*
Am I real? I’m not sure
It’s confusing to think about
Why I am and what I’ll be
Whowhatwhenwherewhyhow
It all spins around so I can’t sleep
When I do sleep, the conflicts chase me
I see in technicolor
A kiss from my love
And a love letter from a gay
Gay boys don’t write love letters to straight girls
A confusion, sparkling prom dress
Left in shreds behind my closet door
What’s happened? I don’t know why
My silver shoes are turned red
Why are my nails crusted with red?
Wake up, sleep again
Wake up again, now sleep
Alarm bleeps, but I’m not awake
**** it all, I’m not awake
Fix a smile to my face
Tell the world I’m okay
Then yearn for the end of a long day
Inhale the breath of my love
He distracts me from
The tidal wave looming over my head
The faces under the water titter
As I kiss him hard, he kisses harder,
Heart rates speed up in sync
And around us, the noises try to send me
Scurrying under a desk, into a corner
Quick, hide under your jacket!
And when I look into his eyes,
Those warm brown eyes,
I see his fear and it scares me
It’s good to know someone cares,
But I hate to cause him pain
The look in his eyes as
he gently pulls me out from under the desk:
Concern, fear, a swirl of stress and anxiety
I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s anxiety
Yes, it’s nice to be loved
But it hurts to know that my emotions cause them pain
These emotions which I cannot control,
These impulses to eat and eat
To bang my fist, then my head, against the wall
Standing in the shower,
Burning hot water,
I look up into the spray
I see myself with lungs full of water
Gasp, pull away, squeeze my eyes shut
Open them again, there’s the silver cord
The link between the main showerhead and the detachable one
The loops glitters
See it hanging around my neck
God, oh, god, why do I see this?
I do not wish for death, I fear it
So why do these visions come to me?
There’s a name for this, all of this
This insanity which is mine
The first word is borderline.
(Borderline Personality Disorder)
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
Droplets of water falling on our skin
Naked, under the showerhead
My lips are moist from kissing your chin
Not a place left dry, everything’s wet
Passionate kisses
Inside the shower
Two puzzle pieces
Are joined with fierce power
The water is running
A cleansing rain
The screams are coming
Overwhelming brain
Sacred water
Lingers on our lips
Taken as offering from a holy altar
By our passionate post-shower kiss
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 8:35 AM UTC
My body shakes from adrenaline
Trying to rid the memories but
Reliving each moment in 3D
Crying and screaming in horror inside.
I don't even want to remember
I don't want to write it down
But it's the only way to get it out
To bring this Nightmare to light
The first thing I saw in my dream
Was my pale pink walls stained with blood
Splattered up to the ceiling beside by bed
Someone had been murdered there
I ran away in fright from this hell
This hell of a lucid dream
I ran the hell out of my house
And ran into a worse hell than my room
Public showers at a public pool
One showerhead a flamethrower
One showerhead boiling acid
Their victims lying there dead
Beside the pool were two lovers
A man and woman locked in a kiss
Frozen dead pale and stiff
The woman held a knife in his back
I ran away screaming only to come face to face
With the family who did all this
A psychopathic group set out to ****
And I was next on their hit list
I ran and ran and ran and ran
Running until I was out of breath
I kept running though my body failed me
I collapsed on the ground and died of heart failure
So that is my dream in a nutshell
Described as plainly as I can
Details avoided the horror unexplained
Nothing can be worse than this
My Nightmare of a Century
The Dream that tested my strength
Tested my bravery
My will power
I may not go to sleep again tonight
I may need to write to let it go
I may need to eat for comfort
And drown my mind in music and schoolwork
It doesn't make me less strong
It doesn't make me weak
It's just how I push through these times
When the Dawn comes I'll sing with joy
Thank you God for being here for me
When no one was online on Facebook
To talk to, to ask for prayer, to reach out to
Thank you for being 24/7/365 --I hate being alone.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
I stood under the showerhead today
cleansing myself and wondering
if the same thing could be done to my past.
Head first, I
lather my hair,
massage my regrets into my skull
and I let it sit.
I’ve done this enough times that
I think my brain
has absorbed them all
The sorrows seep in
and decide that one rinsing
- and neither was two, or three, or four
wasn’t quite enough
- my arms are sore so I guess I’ll just move on.
Next, my skin
is subjected to vigorous scrubbing.
I can never
remove enough layers of shame
I can never
exfoliate all my guilt
and when I look down, my hands
contain ghost stains of crimson gloves
- *“Out, ****** spot! out, I say!”*
I wonder if
anyone else sees me this way
I wonder if
the callused and scarred tissue in my heart
can be so easily removed
like dust, grime, oil, blood.
I slump against the tile wall,
letting the water scald the coldness inside me.
Is it easier to live when you close your eyes
instead of watching the things that nearly killed you
swirl around in infinite eddies
down the drain?
I flinch at the way the water
gurgles down the pipes, wondering why
it’s so easy for them to take it in
and let it go.
The water stops. I shake off
the last of the tenacious water droplets
and I run my hands down my wrists, my ribs, my face
It is good to feel like your body is a clean slate.
I remember what all I scrubbed and scraped and
rubbed off, and I think
No more. No more. No more.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
It seems that
The only thing that warms me now
Is the scalding water
Of my showerhead.
My bones are all my sad endings and lost loves and destroyed galaxies soldified.
No hero's smile or requited love or photogenic nebula
Will ever do it for me.
Not any more, at least.
The muscle in my chest has rotten away to reveal cobwebs and a chill;
Even before the heart had gone to waste it had already been out of use
For a long time.
The veins and arteries once filled with life are now static,
Little tubes that serve no function.
My palms open and close-
Or, I think they do.
If my heart is gone, how have I lived on?
I assess the state of my chest cavity.
Oh.
I have not.
I am but a tangle of thoughts in my consciousness left to stew in limbo,
A fitting punishment of corporeal suffering
For the body that once held
Me.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 7:41 AM UTC
in a hotel bathtub
beneath a crooked
showerhead
two boys
on thumb war
number seven
are seen
by the same
hallucination
their colorblind
father
had
during
his dry spell, his bug
collecting
craze
when their mother
was the god
she went back
to being
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Bring it on sandman,
You little ****
I'm gonna break your ****** nose this time...
Crack you in the face with 3 cans of energy drinks,
Clap your ears with open palms of Clutch's latest album, "Sunrise at Slaughter Beach" at 100 decibels,
Kick you in the nuts with a steel toed boot of a lit cigarette stuck in the nostril,
Inhaling deeply ,
Painfully sending cinders through my sinuses.
Body blows of cold water,
Blasted through the most concentrated setting on the nozzle of the showerhead,
You feeling it yet bud?!?
I can go 12 rounds,
And your knees are shaking on the 3rd.
Knock out a few teeth with smelling salts,
Kicking that sweet sweet adrenaline into overtime,
Overclocking the ol' brain matter with that brown fluid in the grey matter,
Show me them pearly whites now.
I will beat you this time slim,
I know all your tricks,
Give me your best shot,
And well see how well your blows meet the meat.
Immaculate hit you 3 ways,
Hard, fast, and repeatedly,
Write your will with your blood and spit,
Cuz when I'm done with you,
You'll be crawling away from me,
Beggin' like a little *****
Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 2:35 AM UTC
when water drops
from the showerhead
feel like bullets
and the threadbare bed's
springs are rusty
and there’s silent night
after silent night
do not give up.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
I’m a stranger walking through a wonder world
colors dripping down my walls
Sudden like hidden koolaid in a showerhead
purposeful like a bath in paint
Watercolors of all my favorite songs
and so many new ones
Today I’m tired and slightly lonely
it’s a dreary day
I’m lighting up with a dizzy rainbow mix
of beats
in the absence of a working tub
I’ll stand up and steam myself to sleep
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
You hold me against you as we laugh under the sheets. The radio blares softly through the bedroom spreading the sound of country music. My once shiny, and now dull red hair falls to the right as I climb on to you slowly. Your hair is dark against the white pillows and your eyes glow despite the lack of light. My eyes trace over the somewhat defined lines on your chest then back up and they meet your gaze. You tug lightly on my wrists, which until you moved them, rested on your chest. They now lay on either side of your upper shoulders as you reach up to kiss my lips that once held a bright red pigment but are now a dull shade of pink. During some point of this perfect chaos your hands found their way to my tank top and removed it's straps. You trail your unmatchable hot kisses down my neck and clavicle. You squeeze my hips knowing it'll make me jump and we laugh again after I do.
In the early morning light the bite marks along my thighs and hips have slowly begun to fade as i turn on the shower. I can hear you cooking in the kitchen and I decide to surprise you, so I walk out in your t-shirt and my lace underwear and I wrap my arms around your waist. You smile, turn and meet my lips once again with your kisses sweeter than honey. I reach behind you and turn off the stove top before looking up at you and guiding you to the bathroom. As we step in under the water spraying from the showerhead, the only thing that I feel is the cold wall against my back, the light kisses of the water and the warm embrace that only you can give. The water accents the muscles on your chest as I trace my fingers down them. The kisses on my neck are soft and loving, but the touch of your hand on my upper thigh is needy and lustful. I answer these touches with some of my own and I pull you closer and gently bite your neck. Just like a reflex your lips are on mine engaging in a passionate kiss. As your hand travels higher on my thigh I deepen the kiss and bite your lip before sliding my tongue across yours once again. As the water grows cold and we step onto the mat on the floor we exchange loving glances and continue on with our day remembering our night and the games we played
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
/ had this hairbrush could halt hearing loss in hallucinations. this theory that eve was adam’s mother and that god was born in eden for refusing to study virgins. she had her facts straight and a dog would tell my son otherwise. a way of coaxing both ****** and suicide to breastfeed death. this bird that would go
like a showerhead
south. a goldfish, a brainless calf…
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
the bunk
above mine
I call
deathbed
is
my brother’s-
he has
his own
way
of thinking
*showerhead
is spotlight*
he argues often
with sister
about
the staircase
two times
of three
she pushes
him
but today
she is tired
and agrees
by saying
*silly
backward
staircase*
and I, as ever
unable
to break
the heart
of either
sleep
for both
as they watch
me
eat
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
on the rare occasion
that you chose to show me affection
it was two bodies together
two souls apart
I used to shower
immediately after ***
to wash away the filth
to scrub away the feeling
let my tears cascade
like the rain from the showerhead
watching my pain ridden bubbles
slowly disappear down the drain
when I emerge you ask me
why my eyes are so red
I tell you I got shampoo in my eyes
you laugh and say how stupid I must be
Tell me,
who is the stupid one?
the girl with red eyes?
or the man who never noticed
she cries after ***
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 12:56 AM UTC
If you love me you will touch yourself and fill my holes
with your smile, step inside me like
you are juvenile skipping through a rain puddle.
Pretend you believe it is tears from the stars that form
****** shapes and still are not full, if you love me
know that I need you to touch me or I will ask an army to.
Those lonely soldiers grasping sand dunes
in their sleeping bags, dreaming of ******* for vitamins:
sometimes your silhouette appears in sweat beads
of my showerhead and I am just like a veteran,
fill as much as I can of myself with my two hands,
I think that if you don’t love me I would rather be dead.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
the mirror stares at the wholeness of me--cellulite creating waves over waves, bumps and hills over the decisiveness of my bones. everywhere, a mirror, a chance to reflect and magnify. here i am, my reflection says, hands waving at me, smile wavering slightly. here i am; look closely. more, the person says. look harder. and there i see it--the person in the person. the hands wrapped around my hands, not hovering there but trapping mine. over the halo of my hair is another head, one sneering down at my reflection, probably thinking its way into this world, are you still alive?
there is room for doubt, never any room for certainty. when i step under the showerhead, grab the loofah and wash, i imagine the tearing of skin against claws. secrets fall over in rivulets of darkened fat, the sick yellow of it all screaming at me in the unrelenting water. there has got to be time for release, however nauseously painful. as the ****** result streams down the drain, i wring my hair dry and reach for the towel, only to accidentally glance at the mirror again.
are you still alive? an answer spoken through a different mouth: more or less.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
The rose for your mom bleeds red while my hands bleed black
I can see the smudges im leaving on your back while you're leaving prints on me
Keep smiling and whispering "please", we can stay in that white room where your emotional shield lays in the second drawer
Where the showerhead washes away the dirt and grime of our every day lives
Where our laughs resonate off the walls and ricochet back to make us feel less lonely
Where you promised you weren't afraid of anything but flinched at the idea of admitting I'm right
Those white walls are speaking our names like a Mantra from a forgotten language, a language only found when our mouths move together.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC