Toilette

My body sits in the bath
While my mind scrawls down paper edges
Inks in long shafts
My knees knock together
Red circles around them and bone in the centre
My legs scroll down and turn into feet
Each digit washed in water
Each hair in order and complete
Beside them lie my torso, the conjoining part
Pale and goose-pimpled
With a large red spot above my heart
My fingers stretch out in search of my mind
Causing bath water to waver and alter
Spill over the bath and down its white sides
There is my penis, so horribly named
I’m obsessed with this part,
Though it’s probably my age
My head I can’t see
But I feel that it’s there
It’s damp round the edges
The top sprouting brown hair
Within are some questions
Yet they feel farther away
Lost in the past and here in today
Around me is a room
Small and beigish of sorts
Beyond is a town
And a world of other thoughts