The bathroom sink
reawakens
tired blood shot eyes
and
drinks spat toothpaste.
It burns hands that
act for absent
minds.
The white porcelain’s
tinged with filth from
the past; it shines
when
toxins wash the
scum down the drain,
but by morning
the
goodness is gone
and all that’s left
is the struggle
to shine again
Friday, February 01, 2008
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