Hot Water Lamentations

I apologize for my lack of posting once again. I will be under the radar until AP test season is over, so until then, here is my latest project:


The ghosts of strawberry and vanilla linger awkwardly

Their once prime fragrance now only a fading scent hovering over the tub

Which sits in patience, forever virgin and without blemish,

Mouth locked in constant agape,

Barren, it longs for aquatic salvation from above,

A downpour of organic purity to end the dry season,

Begging for liberation from this dehydration

Arid and parched, clenched jaws lie open, hopeful and praying

It rejects the advances of its fruity suitors,

Shampoo and body wash long to burst from their captivity,

To break free from their stringent containers and become amorphous again,

To stream down with rapid velocity, making chromatic cuts against white

But the tub, a pale altar, only accepts a human sacrifice

Naked and barren, I step, offering up my body,

Oil coats my skin, picking up the residue of the air

It traps outside odors onto me, and I wear them like a princely robe

But the scents are far from royal,

The slick black strands of my head are intertwined with white flakes

I grasp the handles and turn, coating them with my palmed grease,

I shiver, quivering under the glacial outpour

It hisses like a serpent, the jets of fluid are venom that seek to tear into ashy flesh,

Soaking and fattening my skin for extraction,

Slithering down my body, weaving itself into my epidermal fabric,

Giving me a watery coat, before percolating into the drain

Taking my drowsiness and fatigue with it,

But when the chilled currents turn into warm elixir,

My chest heaves decrescendo to calm breaths,

And solidified stress dissipates to vapor,

Staining my cracked mirror, mist covering it like a blanket,

Now like a key, water unlocks my pores, bringing an outpour of new knowledge,

It ushers forth more creativity, yet at the same time,

It brings back to the forefront of my mind, thoughts I thought I had left behind,

Now I see past sins and future goals,

Random anecdotes float up to the surface

Clusters of thoughts are baptized into cohesive concepts,

Ideas I had buried arise again,

And begin taking walks in Writer’s block

Now body and mind are both a blank space,

The latter, a canvas for me to create,

The former, a brush ready to be stained

Now I’m ready to dip myself into life’s colors,

No longer is it a minefield for me to walk around in trepidation,

It is a mission field of exploration, to be done with elation