PANTONE 19-0622 TCX/Trenches

In the night,

Blanketed by the porcelain blankness of an empty tub

Trench dug,

At grips with a war i know all too well

Assault on six senses

Firefights emitting self-esteem from condensating conversations with myself

This tub has room for nothing else

I win a few battles, occasionally

I have the scars to prove them

See that one?

From when the motherness of my nature

Entered my life as nurture

That other one?

Emotional absence

Of an ever-present mother

Many endured,

Many lost,

No wars to be won

I

dig

dig

dig

dig

Until this hole becomes home

A whole trench to reside in

Residue of all collected inside

Everything except water

Wrapped in cold acrylic embrace

Digging deeper

Is to dig my way out