My eyes sting and my lashes are drooping with their own weight.
My hands grip the sides of the sink.
The marble is smooth, white, and unstained:
I remember days when opaque red would dot its surface
and these days I will watch films, scrutinize the fake blood,
thinking the whole time that it’s too thick and much too orange.

It’s often said that blood is thicker than water
but this is only true when you leave gore out to the sun;
once it dries it becomes sticky. Almost like a glue.
Blood is not thicker than water.
But it could be.

The mirror is a scatter plot of mindless scrubbing.
There are soap stains and there are little matte dots
there would be rust if it weren’t already scrubbed away—
because crimson is bright and it would be wiped down immediately.
And today I don’t want to actually shower.
Today I don’t want to actually do much.
Today I just want my bangs to stop looking greasy
to stop reflecting in the light, to stop mirroring whatever looks into it,
to stop being something that might define me. Like blood

I wet my hair

Like water.

I’ve read much about claws scratching someone’s scalp…
It could be a crawling sensation
like claws caging your thoughts in
or it could be pleasant.

I’ve read about people sitting together
dragging hands through the other’s delicate locks,
braiding and tying up or just lazing around.
I’ve read about people in other’s laps
and I’ve read about wet hair
nails
lips. Tongues. Stains.

And looking down at the red beneath my nails
Stains
Swallowing against the acrid taste in my mouth
Tongues
Biting down hard to stop sobbing
Lips
Scratching, hard
Nails
I will tug at my hair. Fresh from a shower where I scraped myself raw
I had showered not for anyone else; rather, to get rid of them,
and I will continue to do so when I wear revealing clothes
or skin-tight suits
because I might be wrapped together all nicely,
but if you leave me out to dry,
I’ll become crusty and sticky and iron-smelling.

I will become a sword that others will wield into battle
I will become the ink that people tell themselves through;
I will become the motivation that could join others
so we can band together
wash our hair

learn the righteousness of pleasure

and stop scrubbing our skin away.