Relief

I reach out my hand.   

I drop my pants.   

I sit upon the cold plastic,     

      and I cringe with pain,                       

                             as the fire within me                                   

                                 begins to crawl down,                                   

                                  pushing against the sides                                          

                                          of my veins.   

I can hear its growls,                  

                        as I let go of a long whimper                       

                                  that seems to go on forever.   

And after the end of time,       

         I reach out my hand again,                   

                           as I stand up and turn,         

           and I open up the floodgate,             

                and I watch the causes of my pain,                         

                                    the fruits of my anguish,

                                                                      as they break up,

                                                                                and drown.

And I smile,       

        I laugh,               

                     as I begin to wipe my ass,                                         

                                                                with subliminal angst.