WaSH

Every dog trudging through a puddle in the cold.
every whimper.
every soul.
every finger.
every crunchy auburn leaf in autumn.

...the abyss into which we look, sometimes, if we really try. Or maybe when we're really afraid and we don't want anything but a smoke and a light film to wash ourselves away.

and sometimes we really wash away. and five years ago we thought we would just shut our eyes for a moment while the scary parts stomped by. And sometimes we even think we were awake for the whole thing, cus we want so badly to believe that we can handle this battle and that love and this burden and that lie. Thinking you have courage, strength so you can deal with your small and big fears. And diving in. everybody has their duel for this day and the rest of them.

there are babies in adult suits crying about respect and trust.

and maybe there you/we are-
splashing in puddles of illusion to feel alive and good about the mess of the mind, the darkness of the devil dipping into your depths for ink to draw the pictures you don't want to see.

wash yourself away.
etch-a-sketch the wretchedness.
don't lie about the fact that you live a life.
end up on an island, a farm, a city roof.

i feel happy in this moment.
but if i stayed here i wouldn't make it.