(T)his Dirty Sink

I will

Shave my beard

Yes still bits of spit(tl)e and

morning’s drool

But worse,

It’sstuck with

words  ha/lf mummmbled

Too afraid to of said out loud, with

Bits of leftover kiss e s

And s/ex/y sweat

Styled from us waking us up  

It’s as long as we,   were

Its end(s) blanket the roots

It curls back on itself

Forest   gro in reverse

For getting rings–Timber

Is bellowed from huffing lungs

Metallic fe lling

Scores of tiny

Vibrating axes

Of sharp (good)byes


Now,

Whom?

In front of

(T)his dirty sink

Of course stubble

Of course stubborn

wet hands & a

blood speckled face off

                                                                                                                                                                                          All Content © Thomas Oliver 2019