the magic being washed down the drain in the shower,
like a clump of hair in the drain
or chunks of vomit after a long night.
it was labeled as infectious
scrubbed away by chants and crystals,
soap and water,
my curse has been removed
and i am now empty,
a blank slate waiting for the next day
to rewrite me.
and then i'll scrub it away again.
having lost my trademark magic,
who am I now?
i have become one of the masses,
losing the dirt that made me
losing the grime that made me real.
i am now a mere doll,
and an absence
in being clean, i feel
i have stopped caring about the shower,
stopped dwelling on each speck of dust
stopped untangling my hair with a thick brush.
i no longer have the energy
when being clean
i am no longer within a shell of a body,
now my body is everywhere all at once,
at one with the dirt
and the cockroaches living
in the cracks of my walls.
but i am working hard
to reenchant myself
with the glory
in a grey and black garden
on my skin.
it was magic that i was taught to fear
but only now do i see