Resisting The Urge

I couldn't help myself and thus I post for your reading pleasure one of my newer poems. In choosing which one to share with you I find myself chuckling to myself. Awhile ago, a not-so-appreciated commentor advised me to "scrub" myself clean of another particular person and their filth, to which I must retort, practice what you preach hunny. Therefore, although I see it as a sick and twisted turn of events, perhaps this poem could be dedicated to you. Scrub and enjoy!


Love's Laundromat

Such a small price
To accomplish a task so complex.
Yet it begins with onlyA fraction of currency.

To live she must die,
Baptised and then drowned
By the chilling flood waters.

The dirt aggitated from
Her intricately woven fibers,
Leaves her cleansed of him,
Yet stuck in the spin cycle of
What used to be.