The Bathroom Became My Friend

The bathroom became my friend,
tonight
And my skin found its joy
wrapped inside.

It was like the planets aligned
for once, a habit I'm forming,
to take off the maggots I find
in my pores,
planted by time,
my own waiting
helping them grow out of nothingness
stagnancy birthing the madness
That goes.

I found myself at home,
with heat as my beginning
and my mind as an oil to anoint.
Not a fighting wretched
battleground
strewn with lances and mad words,
but sewn and hemmed and snuggled against,
the birth of a tide
lapping laps and licking lips
smooth and unrushed
like the moon.

I found myself a home
in the bathroom
and oh, what steam
on the water, rising and filling
the room, and the mirror
no seeing or speaking,
just motion and touch,
ridding and removing the stench,
breathing Skin again,
skin.

I put on my glasses and cleaned my face.
I rubbed coconut oil all over,
wet and dewy,
steamed and stewing,
my meat still virgin and veal and prime,
I don't know what's coming again,
but I know that right now
I feel relished and risen.
I feel real and at peace,
so full of listening,
Glistening
pure in my raw, ill-fit shape,
and not caring an ounce what it looks like
or where it's all going.

I'm so surprised by the glee
in my Qi in the bathroom.
I could just be.