A washout...a washup, maybe...
it feels like a a wash down.
It's a wash down and out.
Have you ever stood naked in a warm rain
with all eyes elsewhere?
You feel cleansed yet sullied at the same
time.
Irrelevancy
is washed away.
But there's more.
There's the privus and the intimus,
the exposed personal that becomes evident.
And that is the fire!
Such is the heat that breeds comfort and action.
Smoothest of comforts
and most violent of actions
sometimes left subtle all the same.
drip drop drain
of everthing that stifles.
It is the drown...
...the glub glub.
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