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Mar 24, 2010

0 Kneading my Brain poem

It's evening
I'm inside the bathroom
looking into the mirror
opening up my head
taking out my brain like a washrag

The light flows in from down the hallway
bending into the mirror's depths
displaying my melancholy face
the faded surroundings that all seem gray

Wringing out my brain over the sink
draining all of my emotions and thoughts
swirling down the white ceramic sink
all my monstrous desires

I apply strawberry-colored soap to my brain
kneading it deep into my brain
trying to wash out the blood, the filth, the dull textures
the voices that repeat inside of my head
the torment of my present