Free Verse Poetry

The Steam Room

teak walls surrounding
in beige and chocolate and copper bricks
layered like centuries’ old sediment
stacked like discarded gravestones

and there’s thick steam within
bulbous and heavy: a milky murkiness
crawling over my skin, sucking
every failure
every bad thought
every cruel word

gluttonous and drunk, I keep keeping myself there
in the teak layered graveyard
and I groggily splash more water
upon the heated brimstones which burn lustily
mere inches from my wet feet

a glorious ritual, pouring water, watching steam rise
in bilious, choking clouds which smoke out my eyes
until they dilate to death, and they become milky clouds too

and the smog emits its final poisons
billowing and burbling and broadening
fatal fumes which seep into my brain
and drown out the air in my lungs

and somehow, I smile, contentedly sated

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