christening

soap scrubbed away any dreams i had of becoming a roller skater.
passive-aggressively twisting away my thoughts of greatness.
it told me i haven't breathed in a year.
it told me drinking hot water would cure me.
it told me my words were waterlogged
bleeding paper pulp all over my heart.

soap is mine.
i scoop it up in my hands like silver edged in trickery, it rubbs it's purring head against my skin
and we embrace, two old friends
made for breaking each other down.

soap follows me into nightmarish perfection.
i would follow it if i could.
instead i scrape my teeth until they squeak
and blow air in perfect spheres through my throat and up into the world
they're alive simply for the pleasure of dying.

soap drips away while my hair squeezes every last drop of it off my body
but i never forget
until i do.