One faucet, two hands
Ten fingers-
sinful digits scrubbed with soap.
Each protruding knuckle rubbed raw
thrice, until the thoughts still
(still, they do not)
I drown my palms-
dirty and defiant
in the freezing stream
(numb your skin;
numb your mind).
When I am finished
I count to nine
and start again.
3 comments
I like this DaylightFades. I’m not sure if I understand it. But it felt good to read it. I hope you’re ok
It’s about my battle with obsessive compulsive disorder.
Thank you for reading it
Wow. Simply wow.