| washcloth | ||
| erin |
Tears stream down my skin To the water Maybe I ought to Take it easier on me Myself and I. I don't want to cry Alone in the bath Trying to make sense Of where I am Why I'm so dense And thick. I wring out the washcloth In drips that punch caves And holes in the froth |
000628 |
| ... | ||
| god | worshcloth | 030622 |