Work Text:
I’ll wash my hands until the water runs clear
I’ve been trying to, scrubbing for twelve years
and it is still stained; blood and pain and screams
I’ll never be clean, I’ll never be free, I’ll never be me – it seems
there’s no salvation coming down from an empty sky
as empty as my brain, as empty as when I bleed
bleed ink, bleed dirty blood, bleed pathetic words
sometimes I try to be more than what I am
but all I am is my deep-rooted pain
it’s crystal clear for me: I am condemned by myself
to live alone with my own holy demons
my forever companions, I shall not exorcise them
there’s sick pleasure in keeping scrubbing my hands