cleansing into silence

for the first time in two weeks,

i step into the shower.

thick black sludge grips onto my skin,

but scalding water slowly eases it off.

i want to step out.

it's boiling.

i do.

i go back in.

it takes a long time,

but eventually i am clean again.

fresh and pink and sensitive from heat

the burns are soothed by my newfound senses.

the music has come back to poetry

like a lost love.

i've come back to art and passion

like a prodigal son.