Magic Bathroom

A bathroom floor - an art of magic.

Balls of hair and dead skin cells

trails of feet and summerdust.

A cosmos of all things,

our universe is like a lazy artist's bathroom.

Tribes of microbes living their golden ages

Before a tidal wave of bleach vanishes them off the face of earth.

And it's the very essence of magic,

to flush your ego down

and get lost in the sewers of oblivion,

be the tiniest, wisest un-you

or just

un-be.

And it's the very essence of life,

to be able to purge yourself

chloridically

while lying on the dirtiest ground.

We are living in a world,

where truth and lie won't apply.

We are living in a world,

where freedom has made us slaves.

In the end, everything is simple:

and all I need is a fruit to eat

a bathtub to soak myself in

and your body to soak into mine.

Simply and between miracle and ridicule,

like writing mystical poetry

or just cleaning a bathroom floor.