POETRY
Indelible
Some things cannot be washed away

Hedonistic indulgences of searing flows wasted on wretched numbness
Burn off the pain Scour to the bone
Inescapable briars growing around and bound tearing at my skin
Drown in the rain Run away from home
Intangible despondency festers and rots inside the void of the void
Pour down the drain Exist on your own
Malicious introspection submits to no solace in grave emptiness
Open the vein Die an unknown
I let my hair down and feel the water pour over me streams run from my crown across my cheek and fall off my lips trace down my neck around the curves of my spine and hips
I stare down at the drops collecting at my feet They hit hard and splash back up and softly land again finding each other and reforming as a whole chasing its tail around the drain and then quickly slipping in as if they were never here at all
Take it I beg the drain Wash it away and rinse me clean
© Deborah Weir 2021






