I scrub to erase the day.

As if grease in a pan
it sticks heavily
with a stink
I scrub
attempting to clean
to erase the day.

The faucet turns on
red stains left
as it turns off
my hands dry and coarse.

Lotion to moisturize
as I stare heavily into the eyes
forever within the mirror
the same eyes looking back
as if there is no escape
as if I’d want one?

Death brings an end
an end to thinking
an end to cleaning
an end to trying to forget
the worry and the stress
the germs that cling on
reading to take the life
from a living body
invading, exploring, and breeding.

Yet I clean
and I cover over
sanitize, deodorize
today
the day after
and yesterday
because death
has preventative measures
for a period of time
and I’m not ready
to stop the stress
and the worry
because thinking is everything.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina