brillo's bathtime

Scourers cut upon skin’s layers
in the bathtub
Such a thing
so ill designed
For cleansing one’s delicates
Is surprising
in its ability
To wage war
on that which haunts me
For I am haunted by
A fury
witnessed by few
above the depths
of things
which scorch, damn, and condemn,
Is it so wrong of me
to search
for relief, for repose
In pain itself
on the surface of my body
When pain itself
in its endeavours
Has captured the surface of my mind?