I sit or lie in the shower rather than stand. It’s because I like to feel the water hit my stomach as I lie down, and I also like to sit up and feel the water drench my face as I hug my knees. It’s like a warm embrace, standing up is often too much effort when you can simply sit. Everything is too much effort when you can simply sit.
Everything outside the shower is covered in steam, so it’s no longer clear enough to think about. I like to hold my hands against my face as the water spills over, and with the door locked I know no one can be witness to my oddities. For alone nothing is odd, it’s personal.
Though didn’t that kid die in the film IT while showering?
The shower washes away my anxiety, and when the lights are off the process almost feels like the physical expression of what a good dream feels like. Though sometimes I see the window cleaner watching me through the frosted glass. Or at least, I think its the window cleaner. The good dream is distorted.
But the water doesn’t stay warm for long, as things cool down, a sensation that you’re back in reality is noticed. Standing once more, I just watch the water drip from my body. Each drip contains an essence of my peace. And so the feeling of anxiety creeps back in as I dry my hair. And sometimes I catch a shadow peeping out through the gap in the door.
I look in the mirror to see my expression, but all I see is steam.
It ,the drain, the wrinkles, the window, the door gap under
‘Is that a dustbin over there? I can’t quite make it out without my glasses.’
‘Hmm, yeah, it’s a dustbin.’
I walked to the bin and opened the lid, it was empty. I guess bin day had been, and so the bin was holding nothing, serving no purpose.
‘Got something to throw away?’ she said.
I left the lid of the bin open and climbed on in. ‘I guess.’ I said. I crouched into the bin, thankfully I’m skinny, and asked my friend to shut the lid.
‘Um… sure.’ She said, and did as she was told.
I’m on hiatus.
Tied to the chair
My arms raw and red
The pins are pushing deeper
And I’ve already lost three toes
But I cry for more, more, more
This is what the audience want,
To see me lose my nails, free my skin
Let the blood flow,
a small beat-down in 2015 just isn’t enough
And these days it seems to be the hero providing the pain
The United Kingdom, the USA
Saving the world, one broken bone at a time
And now my insides are drained.
I can no longer cry out for more
Yet they continue to tear my body apart.
And the audience are no longer watching,
They’re onto the next one.
Ah man, that was quite a fall.
I can’t feel my back,
I can’t feel my soul.
Someone threw me out of the window,
but they say I threw myself.
There’s glass in my shins,
there’s blood on my chest.
But it doesn’t really bother me,
as everyone is watching.
Maybe if I fall once more,
I’ll find it once more.
Just once more, let myself fall,
Feel the crunching of bones,
And the impact of concrete.
But I can’t get up,
my legs are no more.
Just like my soul,
Oh, where did it go?
Falling nuts, maybe peanuts, hazelnut, Brazillian, Almond or Coconut
Passing cats, maybe tabby, feral, grey or fat.
And then the dust mites try to climb up my nose.
And danger lurks in the egg whites, milk, cod, wheat and soya that I may consume.
So I tape up my nose and stitch up my mouth, and lie in the dark.
Assassins are everywhere.
My film is finally ready to be premiered and my Mother just won’t go. I begged and pleaded but she just yawned at the thought of seeing my years of work on the big screen.
‘Well, I’m not really into tennis. Who wants to watch grunting women hitting balls around for ninety minutes. You should have done an action movie with Nicolas Cage, that would have been something.’
‘It’s not really about tennis though! The character has anger and violence rushing through her mind, and tennis acts as a visual backdrop to bring it all together!’
‘Explosions do the job.’
Between each sip I stir.And when the cup is empty, I continue to stir and sip. Because my wallet is empty, and I’m not ready to move. The phone on the table continues to ring, and I ‘m just not here. There is no one here. Just keep sipping and stirring, the coffee tastes as good as when it was there.I seek out my reflection in the window.
‘Why am I not answering the phone? Why am I sitting here? Why does it matter to you?’
Other customers in the cafe are now looking my way. I lift my cup and awkwardly smile.
‘Just drinking my coffee.’