Time stands different from the inside of a bathtub
All porcelain, water, and heartbreak
Lapping quietly on my psyche
How DID those final hours go? Alone...
Alone, with me, your voice hums, exiting into space
And your eyes stare back, two trapped blue ghosts
Whispering quietly of Pennyroyal and Apologies--
(All in all is all we all are)
Your voice echoing raw through my watery coffin
Has placated me while mothers expire and
Children are sucked living from my cold dead uterus
Of cobwebs and despair
Your voice, harsh sandpaper of angst,
Guided me through adolescence and teenage boredom
But-- that doesn't count?
Sanity or not, menstrual cramps kick hot against water
Impregnating me with Jack Daniels and blood
Filling me with emotions of you, you, you
I burn, you sing, and-- well--
Time stands different from the inside of a bathtub.

Okay. I've gained some perspective and I won't quit; I AM better than that, and even though I will always have those days of horrible, pain-wrenching teenage self-consciousness, I shouldn't let that stand in my way...