shower thoughts

disenchanted,

the magic being washed down the drain in the shower,

like a clump of hair in the drain

or chunks of vomit after a long night.

it was labeled as infectious

and removed.

scrubbed away by chants and crystals,

soap and water,

my curse has been removed

and i am now empty,

a blank slate waiting for the next day

to rewrite me.

and then i'll scrub it away again.

disenfranchised,

having lost my trademark magic,

who am I now?

i have become one of the masses,

losing the dirt that made me

human.

losing the grime that made me real.

i am now a mere doll,

hardened skin,

smooth edges

and an absence

of dirt.

in being clean, i feel

dirty.

disengaged,

i have stopped caring about the shower,

stopped dwelling on each speck of dust

stopped untangling my hair with a thick brush.

i no longer have the energy

to clean

when being clean

feels wrong.

i am no longer within a shell of a body,

now my body is everywhere all at once,

at one with the dirt

and the cockroaches living

in the cracks of my walls.

disenchanted,

but i am working hard

to reenchant myself

with the glory

of grime,

cultivating it

in a grey and black garden

on my skin.

it was magic that i was taught to fear

but only now do i see

its beauty.