I flush my skin—dry, clean, dry, clean—
Rinsing away these thoughts—
These thoughts—thoughts—thoughts—
Like termites chewing through wood,
They crawl up my marionette spine
And carve tunnels through my mind.
(Feverish obsessions)
An itch under my skin—out of reach—
Bloody fingernails, digging deeper—
Listen, listen, listen to these thoughts,
I must listen so I can be clean,
I must listen so I can be safe.
(Purify)
A need—a need—a need never satisfied
—A thirst—a thought—a ritual to clean—
Like termites chewing through wood,
Like termites chewing through wood,
Like termites chewing through wood,
I listen, and I clean, and I clean—
I am pure.
(I am a fever)
I dig out these thoughts.
And I wash my skin—dry my skin—
Dry and clean—dry and clean—
Rinse off the impurities.
I am pure.
I am pure.
I am pure.
