Shower

Written by Jacob Ibrag

He stood still in the shower, eyes closed.

This was the only time to reflect, to re-evaluate.

Beyond these four walls, control went out the

window. No rush to leave just yet. This was his

fortress of solitude. The only voice that mattered

right now was his. No nonsensical parody of a

civilization here. This was the birth place of almost

every single idea he’s ever had. These idea’s still

in their purest state. These idea’s still his. It was

when he carried them outside the door, these

idea’s remained no more. The landscape changes

and his mind gets wasted from all the cries of

political correctness. This wasn’t a world for the

thinking. As long as he stood still in this hot steam,

anything was possible. State of harmonious perfection.

For at least ten minutes a day, he cleaned the world

of its filth. Eventually, people leave their minds

and rejoin reality. We get dirty from all corners,

joining the party. We partake, break the hopes

of others. Backs break from the weight of each

other. It’s when the clean seems foreign, it all

goes to black. You cease to breath and adopt the

function of a rock. Unmoving, cold and stagnant.

We get where we need to be, somehow. Jump in

the shower, wash it all till it’s gone. Tomorrow

is another day. Renew. Replay.

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Painting by Alyssa Monks