Dirty hands.
You can wash em
but they won’t never be clean.
Not with the power of your
positive thinking
or with the scrubbing.
You’ve done everything
right your whole damn life,
but one mistake and your hands are
dirty hands.
Dirty forever.
No one wants to be touched,
and you’re feeling pretty lonely.

What is a life to live alone?
Not life, just being alive in solitude.

Feeling vibrations from beneath you,
shifty eyes find you and feel you.
You decide that the only way to keep from being alone
is by finding somebody dirtier than you.

They won’t run,
but they will be covered from head to toe in dirt,
and their voice will be grit and rough
and their touch will dirty you more
and you’ll cringe, but cringe harder at the thought
of being completely alone.

“Blame me and then I’ll blame you and you can blame me for blaming you when it was my problem in the first place.”
Round about apologies for tears you feel on your face after they’ve gotten what they want…
You want to burn your skin off.